


Hunted

by GraceAnnie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, HEA, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Minor Violence, Mystery, Post-War, Slow Burn, Witch Hunters, Witch Hunts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-01-31 09:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18588421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceAnnie/pseuds/GraceAnnie
Summary: People are going missing and the wizarding world does not know where they have gone or who is behind it. Draco Malfoy, newly released from Azkaban, seems to be the only one who has an idea. Hermione Granger seems to be the only one who will listen to it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first every work on AO3! This is the first thing I have written after about a fifteen year sabbatical!  
> I don't currently have a beta reader so any mistakes or errors are all my own! 
> 
> Bookmarks, kudos, and comments are all very much appreciated. My plan is for weekly updates so hit that subscribe button!

The night was cold and the drizzle was persistent as Hermione stepped out from the noisy, packed pub, pulling her grey woollen coat tightly around her as her body adjusted from the balmy heat of drunken bodies pressed tightly together to the chill of the night’s air, waving one last time to her colleagues as the door swung closed behind her. She stood for a moment watching her breath fog in front of her, considering if she should just turn around, go back inside and have one more drink, to postpone the inevitable loneliness of the night, but she knew that she could not avoid it forever and her feet were tired from a long day at work.

With a sigh, she stepped down from the doorway and into the street and began to make her way home, the shouts of laugher and bad singing from those inside still ringing in her ears. She could have apparated and been home in a second but instead she shivered from the chill in the air, wrapped a scarf tightly around her neck and hugged her arms around her body to keep warm.

The miserable weather and the cold bite to the air seemed to have discouraged people from venturing outside and Hermione saw very few people on the streets, those who were, hurried along with heads bowed against the wind, disappearing down side streets which led to their homes as quickly as possible. She was startled by a laugh and looked up to see a couple ahead of her, arms wrapped around one another, seemingly impervious to the rain and the chill, so caught up in each others eyes. The girl grabbed her boyfriend’s face between her hands and pulled his lips down to meet her own. She smiled sadly at them, thinking how lovely it was to be in love and how she couldn’t remember the last time she had looked at anyone with such tenderness and joy.

She hurried across the busy road and made her way onto the quieter residential streets, lined with houses with curtains drawn or obscured from view with tall hedges. Her flat, sensible, work shoes made very little noise of the pavement and it made her feel strangely cut off from the world around her.

It was as she passed the park, the one she walked across every single day on her way home from worked enjoying the bustle of the loud children, that the feeling that she was not alone crept up on her. There was no single moment that caused her to think this, no snap of a twig, no figure spotted out of the corner of her eye, no strange shadow falling across her path. But it was a thought that she could not shake, like eyes boring into the back of her head. She itched to grab her wand out of her coat pocket, but the street was a muggle area and she would not allow herself to be the next story in the Daily Prophet of a breach of the Statute of Secrecy, she would never live it down at work. She tried to brush it off, reminding herself that she prided her ability to be logical and rational, but it did not matter, she just knew.

Her breathing shallowed and the hairs on her arms stood up on end, every nerve tingling with panic. Should she run? Would that let them know that she was on to them, prompt them to chase and catch her. She was not in an approved apparition zone and, even with her panic, was not willing to risk the paperwork and scolding that would come if she chose to apparate just because she felt something. She glanced at the houses as she walked past, could she knock on one of the doors and ask if they would let her in? But they might reach her before she reached the door, and she did not know what she might be bringing to an unsuspecting muggle’s doorway. No, that option would not do.

“You have ridden a dragon, you have faced Lord Voldemort, you are not some scared little girl,” she hissed at herself, “so for goodness sake, _get a grip_.”

She shook her head, as though to shake away the feeling of discomfort and continued on with a more purposeful stride. It lasted for no more than five seconds until the creeping sensation of wrongness was upon her again, boring into her back. She gazed into the darkness of the park across the street, one of the swings was swaying silently back and forth, was it the wind or had someone brushed past it as they walked parallel to her, hidden by the bushes that lined the fence that separated the area from the street.

Her focus fell to the entrance to the park which was just ahead. If someone was in there and wanted to get to her that is where they would do it, the more she considered it the more she was convinced that someone must be stood just outside of the pool of illumination from the street light ready to grab her as she walked by. Her hand slipped into her pocket and felt the comforting solidness of her wand and she thought about what she should do.

She would continue to walk, she resolved, until she reached the gate, at which point she would run, she was only one street over from the house, it would be a short sprint to the door and the safety of the wards that surrounded it. If it was a muggle just trying their luck on an unsuspecting passer by then they would simply grow a little confused and wander away. If it was something more menacing then she had been researching some new hexes recently and was itching for an excuse to try them out.

She was seconds away, six more steps and she would be there. She took her hand out of her pocket, leaving her wand inside and took a couple of deeps breaths to ready herself.

Three.

Two.

One – _and run._

She didn’t allow herself to look to her left into the park as she passed, knowing that if she saw a figure there it would stall her and cause her to slow. The slapping of her feet against the concrete and her breath hitching as she ran was all she could hear, she did not know if there was anyone following her, but knowing what could happen when you were caught, it was not a gamble that she was willing to make.

She was so close when it happened. She was on her road, could see the front door of Number 12 Grimmauld Place unveiling itself, pushing the other houses aside as it settled into place, only ten meters ahead of her. She was so close, almost safe.

A tall, dark figure stepped out from behind the last of the tall trees that lined the pavement and stood still, arms out to his side ready to catch her.

 

\----------

 

Harry was sat in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place enjoying a dinner begrudgingly prepared by Kreacher while he completed writing a report that he needed to present to the Minister of Magic the following morning. Not quite the exciting Friday nights that he had envisioned when picturing his ideal adulthood, he though wryly as he spooned more pumpkin soup into his mouth and scratched out a sentence half way down the page.

The fireplace behind him roared with green flame and Harry looked up from the parchment he was reviewing to watch his best friend step out of the hearth, brushing soot from his shoulders as he did so. Kreacher, grumbling, popped up behind him seconds later with a dustpan and brush to sweep away the pile of ash that collected around him, tripping Ron as he tried to step forward into the room. “

Kreacher you bloody menace, at least let me get out the fire before you assault me!” Ron grumbled, as he caught himself and managed to remain upright.

Harry heard Kreacher grumble something about blood-traitors before he shuffled away once more.

“Ron!” Harry exclaimed happily, ignoring the exchange and getting up to pull his friend into a hug, “I didn’t know you would be back this weekend?”

Hugging him back, Ron grinned, “Our match against the Wigtown Wanderers was postponed as they’re now 21 hours deep into playing the Magpies and apparently there’s no sign that its going to end any time soon. Coach postponed it to next week instead, so free weekend!”

Ron had been the Keeper for the Appleby Arrows for the past six months, having worked his way off of the reserves bench after three years of hard training. Since that time, his residence at Grimmauld Place was sporadic and with little notice of when he would be there, often opting to stay in whichever town the team were playing in to party with his teammates instead. Harry was thankful that Ginny, second chaser to the Hollyhead Harpies did not seem so interested in partying as hard and managed to be back most nights without any negative affect upon her career. Harry missed having Ron with him at work, they had completed two years of Auror training together before Ron had decided it was not the job for him and had been offered a place on the team.

“That’s great,” Harry grinned, “Ginny’s got a match tomorrow, maybe the three of us could go and watch?”

“Oh, I invited Melissa to stay too, hope you don’t mind.” Ron said flippantly as he sat down at the table and helped himself to the bread roll that was on Harry’s plate.

Before Harry could respond the fireplace roared again and Melissa stepped into the room. Kreacher, livid at the further intrusion into his evening, appeared again and began furiously scrubbing at a spot of soot on her shoe.

“Kreacher,” Harry snapped, “leave her alone, so and polish some silver or something!”

With a huff, Kreacher disappeared.

Ron snorted as the house elf left and announced, by way of introduction, “Melissa Green, Harry Potter.”

Harry smiled and stuck out his hand to shake adding, “Sorry about Kreacher he gets a bit over the top sometimes, I’ve given him about fifty-seven socks by now and he still refuses to leave so we’re stuck with him!”

Harry recognised the star-struck expression that adorned Melissa’s face and quickly withdrew his hand while she remained frozen in place, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Right, well, that went great.” Ron muttered standing back up and cramming the last of the bread into his mouth, he took his girlfriend by the shoulders and turned her towards the kitchen door, “we’ll just nip out of a bit of air and let her brain catch up.” He grinned at Harry, as he slipped an arm around her waist and steered her out of the room.

As they made their way to the front door it swung open and Ginny stepped inside, broom over her shoulder and kit bag in hand.

“Ginny, this is Mel-” Ron started, but she dropped her bag to the ground and held up her hand in protest.

“Ah, ah! You know my rule dear brother; I won’t bother learning their names until they last at least three months.” She smiled an insincere smile in the direction of Melissa and picked up her bag once more, making her way into the kitchen, “Hope you last!” She called over her shoulder leaving them alone in the hallway once more.

“Well that was my sister,” Ron shrugged, “the Harpies are an apt team for her given how she is one. Come on, I need a smoke.”

He wrenched open the door in frustration and made his way into the street, Melissa following mutely behind, cheeks burning red.

“I didn’t do very well in there did I?” She sighed as she watched Ron light a cigarette and take a deep drag.

“It certainly could have gone better.” Ron agreed as he took her hand and pulled her towards him, she laughed and pressed herself against him, kissing him lightly, enjoying the taste of smoke on his lips, “But don’t mind them, once they know you, they’ll love you.”

He stepped away and took another deep drag of the cigarette before passing it to her. The night was quiet and Ron stood with his face pointed up to the moon, enjoying the peace. It lasted only a few seconds before a persistent slapping sound pierced the silence, he frowned and stepped out into the street to work out where it was coming from, it was only his Keeper reflexes that stopped the woman from barrelling into him as he caught her by the arms.

 

\----------

 

Hermione let out a shriek of panic and dismay as hands tightened around her upper arms, her fists came up and hammered against the broad chest of her attacker as she tried to pull away but the grip held her tight.

“Mione?” A familiar voice broke through her panic, “Hey, Hermione, relax its just me.”

As her captor began to laugh she stopped and looked up to take in Ron’s face grinning down at her. She paused for a moment, catching her breath and feeling her heart pounding in her chest.

“Ronald- _fucking_ -Weasley!” her fists came up once more and battered against his chest, “You bloody scared the hell out of me!” Tears pricked in her eyes as she tried to control her breathing.

“What the hell were you running for?” He chuckled, “The most exercise that I’ve seen you do before now is hefting books in the library.”

Hermione’s cheeks reddened as the ridiculousness of the situation sank in, she scolded herself for being scared of a fake stalker. She realised how closely she was standing to Ron and that a woman was stood nearby watching them, her cheeks reddened even further and she stepped back out of his grip. She smelt the smoke and relief surged through her.

“Are you smoking again Ronald? You promised your mother that you would quit last Christmas, she is going to be very disappointed in you.” She snapped, using Ron’s hesitation to her advantage she barrelled past him and into the house, casting a lingering glance to the woman as she passed.

 

\----------

 

“So, who’s the woman?” Hermione asked as she entered the kitchen, throwing her coat over one of the wooden chairs after extracting her wand from the pocket.

“The newest floozy.” Ginny offered.

“Her name is Melissa.” Harry supplied, rolling his eyes at his girlfriend’s comment.

Hermione said nothing further as she flicked her wand at the kettle and watched as it rapidly boiled, but her mind ran through the usual checklist that it seems her mind will not let her escape.

_Taller than me, but still a head shorter than Ron, he’d be pleased with that, she can still wear heels when they go out. Sleek hair, much more manageable, bet she can just roll out of bed in the morning. Blonde too, like the last two, it seems Ron is developing a preference there. Curvy hips, Molly will say they look like childbearing hips, that will be a point in her favour. Intellect, to be determined._

Hermione snorted quietly to herself as, so far, he had set the bar low in that respect, it seemed the average quidditch groupie did not have a lot of time to crack open a book between matches.

This would be the fifth woman that Ron had paraded before them in the last year following their break up Hermione realised. Every time a new woman followed him through the fireplace with her big adoring puppy dog eyes Hermione could not help but feel a twinge of frustration as she marked herself against them. With her own critical eye, it was rare that she ever measured up.

As Ron and Melissa re-joined the room, Hermione attempted to participate in the conversation but she found she was unable to focus and so, after ten minutes of forced politeness, she made her excuses and escaped to her room.

“I am not jealous.” She reminded herself as she climbed the stairs.

“I am better off without him anyway, the break up was as much my idea as it was his.” She assured herself as she stepped into the shower.

“Its _good_ that he’s moving on, Ron is my friend, of course I want him to be happy.” She insisted as she climbed into her cold bed, alone.

They had tried to make it work. For three years following the end of the war, they had clung to each other desperately in their grief and pulled each other through it and out the other side. Or so Hermione had thought, but it seemed that some wounds had been thinly papered over as they celebrated their victories and buried their dead. It was only as Ron began his Quidditch career and began leaving for weeks at a time for training and matches abroad that Hermione realised that she had not forgiven him for leaving them in the forest, and every time he left her heart broke all over again. After one too many arguments the couple realised that they did not have the fight in them to continue and decided to go their separate ways.

A task that was somewhat difficult given they both technically remained living in Grimmauld Place. For once, Hermione was thankful for the frequency in which Ron left.

For a year or so, Ron had remained single, but it seemed the attention and delight of the women that surrounded him was irresistible and, once he had given in to their pull, there was no going back and since then Hermione had bitterly endured his ability to move on when she did not seem to be able to do the same, burying herself in her work and little else.

 

\----------

 

It was the middle of the night when a sound roused Hermione from her sleep, she grabbed her wand and with a small flick she groaned as read the numbers, five AM. She stilled and listened trying to place the sound that she heard, Walburga was not screaming as so it was unlikely to be an intruder she concluded. A rhythmic squeaking sound invaded the quiet of the house and a moan soon followed. Hermione grimaced, finally placing the sound.

“Oh for goodness sake Ronald,” She snapped, “Learn to cast a bloody silencing charm.”

She swung her legs out of the bed and shoved her feet angrily into her slippers, unwilling to lie in bed listening to her ex-boyfriend and new girlfriend going at it in the room above her. She made her way down stairs, resolving to make a cup of tea and wait them out. As she got to the landing she could see a light already shining through the crack beneath the kitchen door. Satisfied that she would have someone else who had been woken that she could complain with, she hurried into the room.

Harry was pacing the floor, an owl sat on the kitchen table pecking at some crumbs that had been left over from dinner, as Harry read the letter that had been delivered. Hermione could see the stricken look upon his face and concluded that it was not the final member of their trio who had awoken him so early.

“Harry? What’s wrong?” She asked, placing a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the indignant hoot of the owl, expecting a treat.

Harry turned to face her, distraught, angry and frustrated.

“There’s another one Hermione. Another witch is missing. I don't know what we're going to do.”


	2. Chapter 2

Theodore Nott was not a fan of waiting, patience was not one of his proudly proclaimed skills, of which, he would assure you, he had many, more than even he could count. But just, _please,_ do not ask him to wait.

It had already been forty minutes of sitting in the hall on a creaky and uncomfortable chair watching the fireplaces, being mocked by each roaring green flame that did not deliver his friend to him. It was a personal affront, he concluded with a loud and extended sigh, the fifth that had issued from his mouth in as many minutes. The witch sat beside him cast a disapproving glare from the corner of her eye and stood up to sit on the opposite side of the room instead.

Theo resumed drumming on his knees with his hands, sending the occasional spray of sparks from his wand which he continued to hold, causing the man sat on his other side to get up and move. Theo grinned proudly as he pivoted his body and lay across all three chairs. He counted the ceiling tiles for a while, marveling at the difference in décor of this room compared to the grand Main Entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Where that large entrance hall boasted of beautiful green marble and towering and ornately carved fireplaces for the witches and wizards to pass between, this room, just a short corridor’s walk away, was small, plain and badly lit. Theo remembered the first time he had stepped into this room, three years before, upon his own release from Azkaban. The grim and mostly empty room had conveyed a clear message of how he would be viewed by the Ministry itself and by the world around him. There was no friendly face to greet him when he had stepped out of that fireplace and he concluded that the same fate would not await his friend.

The fireplace roared once more and a man stepped out into the room. It took Theo several seconds to recognise him, he was so markedly changed over the five years that he had been away. The Draco Malfoy that Theo remembered had been lithe and pale but a presence in any room, Theo had spent many evenings in front of the mirror trying to perfect the Draco Malfoy swagger which he made seem so effortless. But the man that stood before him, swaying slightly as though the effort to remain on his feet was just too great, was grey, gaunt, and meek. Broken and dressed in the shapeless and soiled robes issued to all Azkaban prisoners. They did not let you change out of them upon your release, once last power play Theo believed, making you walk out through the ministry still clothed in your prison uniform, just in case anyone wasn’t sure where you had been. Theo stood quickly and crossed the room in three long strides, just in time, catching Draco by the shoulders as his knees buckled and his toppled forwards.

“Oh mate,” Theo sighed as he moved his grip to under Draco’s armpits and hauled him upright once more. “It’s really bloody good to see you.”

They stood for a minute, with Theo taking the weight of his friend, before Draco was able to find his feet once more and stand upright, nodding his silent thanks.

“Let’s get out of here.” He croaked and Theo nodded eagerly directing Draco to the reception desk at the end of the hall.

They waited in line in sombre contemplation until Draco was called forward, he signed a document to collect his possessions collected together in a brown paper envelope, and his wand. Finally, his wand, he had almost forgotten the feel of it in his hand. So many times, in his cell, he had reflectively reached into the pocket of his robes or to the holster on him arm to pull out his wand and cast a spell, only to realise the holster and the wand were not there. It was like losing his hand. But now that same wand felt alien in his hand.

He remembered stepping into Ollivanders to purchase it, his parents with him, watching proudly as he tried out several different cores and wood configurations. As soon as he picked up the wand destined to pick him, he had felt the connection and with the slightest of wave a cascade of shooting stars had spun about the room, it was mesmerising. He stared down at the wand, held loosely in his hand. Now he could decide what he made it do, but what was the perfect spell to break his five-year separation, he could not decide.

Theo cleared his throat, breaking Draco’s stupor, making him realise that he had been standing, holding up the queue for far too long. He pocketed his wand and hugged the envelope close to his chest as he followed his friend along the corridor.

Upon his release from Azkaban, being the only surviving Nott, Theo had inherited his title of Lord of the Manor and the sole dominion over the family vaults that came along with it. Three years later you could see considerably more of the floor than the first time he had entered them and the vault had a significantly reduced golden glean. His first purchase, and still his pride and joy, was the muggle sports car that was parked directly in front of the Ministry exit that Theo and Draco used to leave the building. Theo liked it because it was shiny and red, and because if his father wasn’t already dead, seeing Theo sat in it, spinning doughnuts through the rose gardens, would definitely have caused a heart attack that would have finished him off.   

They drove in silence for a little while, Theo periodically glancing over to his friend, was encouraged that every mile that seemed to pass a little more colour came back to Draco’s face. The Dementors were long since banished from the prison but Theo knew first hand that the despair that the brought remained, had seeped into the very stonework of the building and into the heart of each man and woman that was imprisoned within.

When they had driven about twenty miles, Theo reached over to the glovebox in front of Draco and pulled it open. Small glass bottles and jars filled the space.

“I wasn’t sure what you might need,” Theo offered by way of explanation, “your last letter said that there had been a fight and …” He trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence as he watched Draco pick up some of the bottles to examine them, pain potion, calming draught, essence of murtlap, powdered dittany.

“And you expected me to be beaten to a pulp.” Draco finished. Theo looked over to his and broke into a grin at the wry smirk that was upon his friend’s face.

“Well you never were one for a fist fight as far as I can recall.” Theo snorted, “I was expecting worse, but it looks like you held your own.”

Draco did not answer, but quickly tipped a small vial of calming draught into his mouth and then unscrewed a jar of bruise cream and dabbed it beneath his left eye which was swollen and purple. The relief was instant and he sighed, enjoying the cooling tingle of the concoction at work.

“So where are we going anyway?” Draco asked, gazing out of the window, trying to get a sense of where they were.

“My place.” Theo responded, “I know that you could go back to Malfoy Manor but I figured my place is at least already aired out and warmed it, I swear it took about 6 months before I stopped seeing my breath fog when I go back! That’s alright isn’t it? The others are usually hanging about too, I can’t get rid of them, so it’s not exactly peaceful, but it doesn’t get boring either.”

Draco felt relief blossom in his chest, a feeling of warmth that had be almost forgotten to him, as he nodded his agreement to Theo’s plan. He allowed his eyes to close and titled his head up to feel the sun’s rays heat his face through the window, it was not long before he fell to sleep.

 

He woke with a start sometime later as the car pulled to a stop with a satisfying crunch of gravel beneath the tires.  

“We’re home!” Theo sang happily as he switched off the engine and climbed out of the driver’s seat.

He bounded up the front steps with Draco following closely behind and flung open the front doors allowing them to bang into the walls loudly and began climbing the stairs.

“We’re in the east wing, the west is still a little dark magic, cursey _blah_ , so watch out if you’re exploring. You’re in your usual room, I had one of the elves bring over some clothes for you, they’re in the wardrobe already, in the usual room, I told the others to clear out for a while to let you settle in, but I’m sure the reprobates will be back later, its not like they have anywhere else interesting to go.”

Draco hardly listened as Theo continued to babble, so distracted by small wonders that he had been separated from for so long, the soft squishy feeling of the carpet beneath his feet made him itch to tear off his shoes and socks to sink his toes into the pile. A painting of a cornfield that Draco knew had hung on the wall for at least seven generations, that he had thoughtlessly passed on numerous occasions on his frequent visits to the house, made him want to stop and weep at the beauty it displayed.

“Well here we are.” Theo declared, breaking through Draco’s thoughts. They stopped and stood, silent, in front of the bedroom door, Theo reached over and opened it, allowing the door to swing inwards. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

Theo turned to leave, stopped and pivoted back to face his friend, placing a hand on his shoulder, “It’s really good to have you back mate.”

Draco smiled a tight smile and Theo disapperated, leaving him alone to enter the bedroom.

He walked around the room sweeping his hand over the soft furnishing, enjoying the soft luxury. He ripped open the top of the envelope and tipped the contents onto the bed. He stood for a moment and pondered the items before him, at one point in his life so important to be kept on his person even as he knew the aurors were coming to escort him to Azkaban, now all alien to him, like they belonged to someone else. His attention turned back to his wand, still unused, and once more the pressure returned to choose the perfect spell to wield.

“Master Malfoy?” A small voice squeaked behind him, interrupting his introspection, Draco turned to face a house elf, nervously tugging on one of its ears as it gazed up at him. “We is drawn you a bath Master Malfoy, if you is liking it.”

The elf motioned towards a door on the opposite side of the room to where Draco was stood, he crossed the floor and opened it to be greeted with a cloud of perfumed steam. He turned back and thanked the house elf who disappeared with the look of relief as he shut the bathroom door behind him.

Draco quickly peeled off the itchy, dismal prison robes and allowed them to pool at his feet. There was a mirror hung on the wall opposite him, across from the bath, more like a swimming pool, sunken into the floor in the middle of the room. He tried not to focus on his own reflection as he stepped forward and into the bathtub, but could not help but crane his neck and tilt his head slightly, baring the right side of his neck where his prisoner tattoo stood out, stark black, against his pale white skin. Another brand unwillingly seared into his flesh, marking him and shaping him in the eyes of others forever.

He sank down into the water with a satisfied hiss at the heat against him, permeating to his chilled bones. He revelled in the blissful, weightless, sensation of floating in the water, thankful for the Nott family’s decadent taste in bathrooms as he sank down and submerged himself fully under the water, staying beneath the bubbles until his lungs burnt for oxygen.

His head broke the surface and he gasped a welcoming breath, inflating his lungs. It took him a moment to notice the figures surrounding him, given the water in his eyes.

He gave a high pitched yelp as they came into focus, leaping to his feet, remembering he was naked and stooping back down so that he was submerged below the waist. The figures around him began to snicker like school children and it was Pansy’s distinctive snorting laugh that allowed his heart to beat less furiously in his chest.

“For Circe’s sake you lot.” He hissed, crossing his arms consciously over his chest as Blaise, Daphne and Pansy stood at the edge of his bath. The door burst open and Theo entered the room.

“I said to give him space!” He scolded at the unrepentant group.

Pansy shrugged unapologetically and sat down allowing her feet to dip into the bathwater, “You know we don’t like do what we’re told Draco darling and we were just dying to see you.”

Daphne flicked her wand and a tray of champagne and glasses whizzed past Theo’s head. “And we needed an excuse for afternoon drinking.” She supplied.

A glass was pressed into Draco’s hand and before he knew it the three were sat along the side of his bath watching him in his increasing awkwardness.

“Could we, perhaps, have a conversation about boundaries?” Draco snapped, regretting leaving his wand on the bed in the other room, surely the most perfect spell to cast first would be a banishment spell so that he could bathe in peace.

“Oh relax,” Blaise soothed, “We’ve all seen it before.”

Draco let out an indignant scoff “You have _not._ ”

He glanced round at his friends and they all nodded their confirmation, even Theo, having given up hovering at the door sat beside Daphne taking a glass of champagne, winced apologetically.

“Locker rooms.” Theo supplied,

“Um, duh.” Pansy shrugged, alluding to the three-year long relationship that the pair had enjoyed and endured through their final years at Hogwarts.

“You slept naked” Blaise shrugged.

“Pansy had pictures.” Daphne smirked, cocking an eyebrow at him, “that, and your bubbles are disappearing.”

Draco looked down and made a desperate grab at the bubbles at the edge of the bath pulling them towards him to preserve his modesty.

“Hey, if you’ve got it flaunt it.” Blasie offered and took a long gulp of his drink.

“I have to say,” Daphne grinned her wolfish grin, “your hip bones are to die for, maybe I should sign up for the Azkaban diet ready for summer.”

The others stopped, no one even breathed, as they waited to see Draco’s reaction and if they had gone too far too soon. Daphne’s cheeks flushed slightly as her unintended misstep.

But then, Draco threw his head back in a booming laugh and the spell broke and they all breathed a sign of relief.

“Its really great to see you guys,” Draco smiled some of the tension leaving his body as he fell back into the pattern of his chosen family, the savage banter and lack of any seeming decency in their words was more soothing to his soul than the calming draught the Theo had supplied, “but perhaps we could do the heartfelt reunions when I am a little less wet?”

“In other words, off we all fuck.” Theo supplied, standing up and pulling Blaise up alongside him, Pansy and Daphne set down their glasses and removed their feet from the water, picking up the heels that they had discarded.

“Oh boo; I could have scrubbed your back Draco.” Blaise pouted as the four walked from the room leaving Draco alone once more.

 

Draco finished bathing quickly and got out the bath, still a little reluctant to leave the blissful heat of the water. Wrapping a towel around his waist he walked back into the bedroom.

Hands grabbed round his waist reaching for the towel, untucking the corner that secured it in place, Draco grabbed at it to prevent it from falling to the floor.

“Draco.” Pansy purred into his ear, her hands slipping over his, trying to loosen his grasp. “Have you missed me?”

She sank to her knees before him, trailing her nails down his bare chest, and licked her lips as she gazed up at him with desire.

“Pans, what are you doing, get up.” He pulled at the arm trying to lift her gently back on her feet.

“Oh, come on Draco, its not been that long, I think you know what I’m doing.” She smirked and resumed her attempts to get him to drop the towel.

“Pansy stop. Don’t do this.” More firmly now he gripped her arm and pulled her to her feet.

Despite his protest he felt his cock twitch at the prospect of attention, beginning to harden, he had been locked up for five years after all, a man has needs. But not Pansy, never again, he told himself as he noted the longing in her eyes. For him it would be a tumble in the sheets, a blissful release and nothing more, to her it would be a promise that he would not give, it had taken more than a few years to understand that he had no intention of marrying her last time they had been together, it was not a conversation that he wished to restart.

Pansy shook her head slightly, and flipped her hair over her shoulder defiantly, her face was a mask of disinterest and it was only that Draco knew her so well that he could see the shame in her eyes and the slight flush to her cheeks that would not normally adorn her alabaster skin.

As she wordlessly left the room Draco considered if he should call her back, after all, who else would be interested in an ex-death eater, a disgraced man? The world had been a different place the last time that Draco had turned her down, fewer girls would be throwing themselves at him now he realised.

“Pans-” he began, but the door was already slamming shut behind her.

Draco quickly dressed in the clothes that Theo had provided and crossed back over to his bed to look over his personal effects once more.

A signet ring with the Malfoy crest, he snorted with derision and tossed it across the room where it skittered over the floor boards and came to rest underneath the wardrobe. He would no longer be proudly proclaiming his family name after all.

Next, a chocolate frog card, he frowned, wondering why this was something that he had kept, he turned it over and watched the witch that was featured for a moment, a thin smile on his lips, and his question was answered. He opened the drawer by his bed and slipped the card inside.

Some coins, a watch and his Gringotts key remained on the bed, he swept these into the drawer too and slid it shut.

As he picked up his wand his eyes fell to the pile of discarded prison clothing in the doorway to the bathroom and he smiled, his decision finally made.

He pointed his wand towards the rags, “ _Incendio_ ” and watched with smug satisfaction as the cloth burnt, confirming he would never have to wear them again.

 

\----------

 

Harry had left through the Floo shortly after Hermione had encountered him in the kitchen, hastily sweeping paperwork into his bag as he stepped into the flame. Hermione had tried, and failed, to go back to sleep once he was gone. The late night activities of  her other housemates had thankfully finished and the house was silent once more, but still Hermione tossed and turned and could not peacefully settle. As she watched the clock hands pass six AM she let out a frustrated sigh and threw back her blankets and quickly dressed. She was concerned for her friend.

They had all been overjoyed eighteen months earlier when the former head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement had retired and Harry, of course, had taken his place having been groomed for it from the first day that he started training. It had been well deserved, and even Hermione, who initially had some misgivings, could not deny that Harry had taken to the role brilliantly. He had made some drastic changes to bring the DMLE into the new millennium, even creating a new sub-division that he had made Hermione the head of.

But over the past six months a new case had emerged that had taken the focus of the entire DMLE, and Hermione could see that it was slowly killing Harry. In as many months, six witches had gone inexplicably missing, no ransoms, no bodies, no leads.  Despite countless nights of overtime and numerous agents being pulled onto the investigation, the DMLE had made very little progress.

Hermione filled a thermos flask with coffee and stepped through the Floo, emerging straight into Harry’s office. He was sat at his desk, head in hands, reading a report laid out in front of him, paper aeroplane memos were circling his head, occasionally crashing into his temples for attention, he swatted them away and resumed reading.  

“Here.” Hermione announced, opening the flask and pouring the steaming coffee into an empty mug on his desk.

“Hermione you are a life saver.” He sighed, gratefully taking a sip. 

“I’d ask how it was going, but its six thirty and we are at work, so I already know the answer.”

“It’s worse, actually.” Harry winced, handing over a piece of paper to her.

Hermione looked at it, confused, a picture of a man that she estimated to be in his early thirties, looked back at her, blinking slowly and scratching his nose.

 Frowning, she looked back up to Harry for an explanation.

“That’s who was taken this time, it wasn’t another witch, it was a wizard. We estimate he’s been gone about three days, he lives alone so it was only when he didn’t turn up to work that it was called in.”

Harry stood and took the picture out of Hermione’s hands, crossing the room and pinning it to a board that filled the entire wall opposite his desk, along with the six other missing witches. He remained standing, solemnly looking at each face before him and Hermione came to stand with him.

“This completely changes the victimology.” He sighed, lifting up his glasses to rub the exhaustion from his eyes. “This completely changes everything we thought, any motives that we were following.”

The women themselves ranged from aged seventeen to fifty-six, there was little similarity in jobs, blood status, race. They spanned both sides of the war. Gender, it had seemed, was the only thing that connected them, but no longer.

“How the hell are we ever going to find them if we can’t even work out why they’re being taken. _It doesn’t make any sense._ ”

“Ok,” Hermione pursed her lips, trying to think of anything reassuring or helpful that she could offer but coming up short. “What can I do? Shall we go over everything again? I can help you sound it all out, there must be something that we’ve missed.”

Harry shook his head, grabbing one of the memos that floated by his left shoulder, “Thanks Hermione, but actually I think you’re going to be a little busy today already, this one is yours to deal with.”

Hermione sighed as she read the report that Harry had handed to her, “Thanks boss, looks like I better go and deal with this then.”

Harry gave her a rueful smile as she left his office.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” she called behind her, “Ginny will hex me if I don’t make sure you eat!”

 


	3. Chapter 3

When, twelve months earlier, Harry had created the Wizarding-Muggle liaison office as a subdivision of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he had appointed Hermione as the Head of the Division.  Since that time, it had been Hermione’s job to work between the Ministry of Magic and the muggle world to ensure the safety of wizardkind and muggles alike, to ensure that the International Statute of Secrecy continued to be upheld and to act swiftly to contain any and all breaches, a feat that seemed to become more impossible as each day passed.

Basically, Hermione concluded three weeks into the job, it was her job to clean up the messes of the rest of the wizarding world.

And that, it seemed, would be her main task for the day. She walked down the hallway from Harry’s office and into the open plan space that housed her division. Several reports were already laid out on her desk waiting for her as Harry had warned and she pulled her hair up messily as she sat down to read them, ready for business.

It was the usual story, a wizard had gotten a little over the top in the middle of a busy muggle street the previous evening, showing off in front of his friends. A charm gone awry, some levitating objects that had no business in being six-feet from the ground, a crowd of people watching and, even worse, a muggle with a video camera and a personal blog to share said video on.

The internet was an amazing feat for mankind Hermione acknowledged, however, it also made her job magnitudes harder. She quickly sent out fast-flying owls to her on-call DMLE officers, informing them of the incident and setting them the task to track down the members of the crowd to carry out memory modification. Before the day was out they would all swear that they were unimpressed by the obvious fakery. The wizard responsible would be brought in to the ministry to be dealt with, as would the muggle with the video camera who would require a little more mind modification than the other on-lookers. Her field officers were hand selected and very good at their jobs, she was confident that it would not take long to resolve these matters.

The problem remained with the truth universally acknowledged, once something was on the internet it had the potential to become an unstoppable juggernaut and there was no way to take it back.

The best Hermione had come up with so far was her own, anonymous of course, blog where she masqueraded as a jaded street magician. Tired of pulling the wool over the eyes of the unsuspecting public, she now worked to explain and disillusion the masses, debunking popular magic tricks and explaining how they worked. With the new ability to post videos along with her posts she had devised a new strategy where she would explain how the trick could be done in the muggle world in the hopes that it would quell anyone’s desire to look further into the matter. Learning

She had been posting for around six months and was gaining a following that brought her a supreme feeling of satisfaction, even when she reminded herself that it was not her true life. She spent the rest of the morning pouring through muggle magic trick books, practicing what she was learning to prepare for her next internet success.

In the end it was Harry that in fact interrupted her at five thirty and, convincing her that eleven hours was absolutely a sufficient working day, pulled her away from her desk and to the Leaky Cauldron to meet Ginny and Ron and celebrate the end of the week.

 

\----------

 

“Pub!” Theo cried loudly as soon as Draco entered the drawing room.

“No stupid,” Blaise countered, “his name is Draco, remember?”

Daphne rolled her eyes as Pansy snickered at the comment, Theo turned to Draco and gripped him by the shoulders. “Pub.” He insisted emphatically.

Draco closed his eyes solemnly, and slowly nodded, “Pub.” He confirmed. It would be best to just rip of the plaster and get it over and done with, he concluded. As much as he desired to lock himself away, he knew that if he gave into the desire now it would only increase and he could see his decent into the reclusive shut in. He’d been locked away from people for the past five years, now was the time to break that trend.  

Theo raised his arms in the air and cheered his success. 

“Its only three, we can’t go drinking at three, it’s passé.” Pansy sniffed, her lip curling in disgust at the idea, at this Daphne allowed a laugh.

“I think the rest of us are far from being fashionable Pans.” She smiled, “And anyway, I need to be here for a least another hour to check on my potions or they’ll burn and I’ll have to start again.”

“Potions?” Draco questioned.

“Oh, she’s gone all legitimate and has a _real job_ now.” Blaise groaned. “It’s utterly dull.”

“She taken over the entire ballroom is what she’s done.” Theo complained. “It’s utterly selfish.”

“Because obviously we’d be having balls every week otherwise.” Pansy rolled her eyes, “We’d have people just lining up to attend, given how popular we are these days.”

Draco ignored his friends’ sarcastic comments and turned to Daphne, “Can I see?”

One of the things that he had missed the most while he was away was the brilliant calm that came over him while brewing potions, the methodical chopping and preparing ingredients and the satisfaction gained from watching it turn the perfect shade with each addition to the cauldron.

Daphne nodded and Draco followed her from the room and along the hall into the former ball room. Where once there was an elegantly furnished, spacious room, there was now a large, dimly lit, workshop. Several workbenches were set up, evenly spaced over the floor, each with a large caldron in the center, fires burning to various degrees a ferocity beneath each pot. The heat, the wisps of different coloured smokes and steams and the intermingling smells were an assault to the senses, but Draco quickly adjusted. He smiled, it reminded him of the potions classroom back at Hogwarts, with a painful pang he could visualize Snape sweeping through the room, pausing to make comment on one of the brews.

Daphne stood in the doorway, arms folded, watching him with a guarded expression, waiting to defend herself from the jibes that she had become accustomed to from the others.

Draco walked over to the closest cauldron and gazed inside, appraising the contents, it had been several years since he had needed to take this particular potion but he recognized the pearlescent sheen on the liquid from the many morning afters that he and his friends had gulped it down following a night of going hard. “Hangover potion?” He questioned.

Daphne nodded, “You know what they’re all like, they would have blown the house apart in a complete tantrum if they didn’t have a constant supply. I think it’s the main reason why Theo lets me keep the rest of it all set up.”

“Damn right.” Theo agreed as he walked into the room behind her.  

Ignoring him, Daphne and Draco walked around the room as Draco continued to try to guess the brews with little success. Daphne was no longer following her potions books, and instead had branched out and began to brew her own concoctions, acne treatment, hair elixirs, beauty potions, temporary cosmetic enhancements, Draco was amazed at the range that it seemed that she had created all by herself.

She delighted in spending the next hour talking Draco through each, the ingredients, variations she had tried and the plans that she already had to improve the next batch.  Theo followed behind them, arranging ingredients, bottling finished potions and tidying the workspaces with a practiced ease that allowed Draco to see through his complaining and instead suggested that he often filled the role of Daphne’s assistant while she worked.

“Daphne!” Draco exclaimed, “This is all amazing, you should write a book.”

“ _Thank you!”_ Theo interjected, “I’ve been telling her that for _months.”_  

“And as I told you back, no chance, I’m not sharing my secrets.” Daphne smirked.

“No you’re just fraternizing with the enemy instead.” Theo shot back.

Draco frowned in confusion and Theo explained, “She’s joined a partnership with all of those disgusting Weasleys.”

“First of all its not a _partnership,_ ” Daphne countered, “and secondly its not _all_ of them, I’m meeting with the one that runs the shop to see if I can have some of my products stocked, they do love potions and beauty potions already so I’m sure I can give them something better.”

“It still sounds pretty terrible to me.” Theo sniffed, “Those twins were insufferable through school.”

Daphne hummed her agreement as she ladled her newly developed Boost of Confidence potion, one she was particularly proud of if she did say so herself, allowing the drinking a short time of increased confidence and self-esteem. “They were pretty annoying; I can only imagine now he’s got a whole joke shop to run he will have gotten so much worse. Hopefully I can just drop off the bottles, sign a contract and be out of there before I get a migraine that will last me a week.”

She put the stopper in the final bottle and placed it down on the storage rack, and as soon as her fingers had left the glass Theo grabbed both her and Draco around the wrist and dragged them from the room, “Well the best way to deal with it my dear is some preemptive drinking, so let’s go!”

Blaise and Pansy joined them in the hall and one-by-one they stepped through the fireplace and into the Leaky Cauldron.

 

\----------

 

The sun was hanging low in the sky as Harry and Hermione walked through Diagon Alley and into the Leaky Cauldron. Ron and Ginny were already there and four glasses of fire whisky were already lined up on the table waiting for them all. Hermione settled into the booth, allowing the others to quickly pick up a conversation about a recent quidditch match that she had not paid attention to. Her mind drifted and she let her eyes slowly scan the room.

The dark and dingey pub that she remembered hurrying through in her childhood was now gone, Hannah Abbot and Neville Longbottom had taken over the lease and had breathed new life into the establishment. The room was now light and airy with a welcoming and relaxed atmosphere. Neville had combined his passion for herbology with his new hobby of mixology, meaning there was an ever-growing cocktail menu to delight the patrons.

Her eyes settled on a group that looked familiar but, with a long day of work behind her and the knocked back fire whisky having gone quickly to her head, it took several seconds before she was able to place any of them. It was Pansy’s shrieking laugh that finally allowed her to place them all, taking her straight back to the Great Hall at Hogwarts where the clique ruled the Slytherin table every dinner time.

Hermione stayed quiet and observed the group for a little while, it was a remarkable change that she could see in them all. They were relaxed and laughing, there was no sneering or fighting and it didn’t look like any of them had anything to prove. Both women she remembered as young girls in class who constantly had an expression as though they were chewing a wasp, now each had softened significantly, it was the first time that Hermione could remember seeing Pansy smile.

Five glasses hovered through the air settled themselves down in front of the group and Hermione gave a small gasp as Draco Malfoy sat down at the table, returning from the bar. As though he heard her from across the room his eyes flicked up and locked with hers.

He held her gaze for several long seconds, with an expression that she could not read. She felt her cheeks redden and, realizing that she was starring, she quickly looked away, reaching for her drink for something else to focus on. She misjudged the distance of her glass and instead sent it toppling all over herself and Ginny, who was sat beside her. Both women leapt up, out of the way of the liquor and Hermione hastily flicked her wand and it disappeared before running over the table and reaching the floor. Cheeks burning even more than before, she sat back down, she did not look up from the table, not wanting to see if Malfoy was still watching her, smirking along with his friends at her clumsiness, feeling just as awkward and ungainly as her twelve year old self.

Harry and Ron returned to the bar, using the spillage as an excuse to get in another round and Hermione watched as the inevitable moment came when Ron, drinks in hand, turned and spotted the Slytherin gang who were seated just a few feet away, as he stepped towards them Theo and Draco stood, both with hands by their side ready to reach for their wands at any second, seemingly itching for a fight.

“Oh shit is that Malfoy?” Ginny asked, watching the same thing, “I thought he was locked up still.”

“Looks like he’s out.” Hermione muttered quietly, still looking at her drink, but Ginny had already stood up from the table, grabbing Hermione’s arm and pulling her along to join their friends at the bar.

“Come on, Ron’s already pissed off about the Cannons losing this afternoon, he’ll have any excuse to hex that ferret face into next Tuesday, we either need to stop him or get a front row seat.”

Before a snide comment could be thrown from either side, Harry, having set down the drinks he was about to carry back to their table, stepped between Ron and Draco and held out his hand.

“Good to see you Malfoy.” He said quietly.

As Hermione and Ginny approached the group Draco gazed down at Harry’s hand with a guarded expression, as though calculating all the ways in which it could be a trap. Hermione realized that she was holding her breath.

Then Draco reached out and shook hands, dipping his head slightly in recognition of Harry’s words.

“Where are you staying?” Harry asked him, concern evident in his expression at the dark shadows under Malfoy’s eyes and generally disheveled appearance, and Hermione watched Theodore Nott visibly bristle at the question.

“He’s got us to look out for him Potter there’s no need for you to fuss.” He cut in haughtily.

“ _He_ can speak for himself.” Draco interjected, raising a pointed eyebrow at his friend who rolled his eyes and sat back down at their table; Hermione could see that Theo still held his wand hand hovering over his pocket, ready to defend his friend should he need to.

“It really isn’t your concern Potter,” Draco drawled, “Unless you’re assigning yourself my parole officer to make life extra _sweet_ for both of us.”

Harry rolled his eyes but was unperturbed, “I just wanted to make sure you were doing ok Malfoy,” He shrugged, at a loss for how to express what he wanted to, “Its just – if I can help with anything – I could put in a good word at the Ministry if you were looking for a job maybe?”

“I’ll remember that Potter.” Malfoy responded, his expression very clear that he would rather die than ever ask Harry for help, “Now if you’ll excuse me I have five years of drinking to catch up on.” 

He smiled disingenuously and turned away to rejoin his friends at their table, taking a long drink from the pint glass before him and pointed ignoring the group who were still stood behind him.

Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione returned to their own table.

“Well,” Ginny said brightly, “I was expecting that to go _far_ worse.”

“What are you defending him for? He’s a right git.” Ron huffed and Hermione and Ginny groaned. The argument between Ron and Harry regarding the character of Draco Malfoy was one that had been going since the Battle of Hogwarts, neither were willing to give up any ground on the matter despite the number of times the issue had been brought up. Hermione could remember an particularly heated debate five years earlier during Draco’s trial when Harry had announced that he would be speaking for his defense. Ron had not spoken to him for a week.

“Guys,” Hermione sighed, “can we please not do into it, we know what you’re both going to say and you’re both too bloody stubborn to change your minds.”

“ _He was lowering his wand, Dumbledore offered him protection so we should honour that,_ ” Ginny interjected in her best impression of Harry, “ _he didn’t stand with Voldemort in the end.”_

“Right,” Hermione nodded, turning to Ron, “and then that’s when you say – now lets see, bully, called me mudblood, ferret face, let death eaters into Hogwarts, pointy nose, smarmy git, that about cover it?” She counted off each point on her hands as she listed them.

Harry and Ron did not respond.

“Good,” Ginny grinned, “now let’s move on.”

The group settled into familiar banter of friends who had known each other for a long time, they passed the evening with more drinks and a lot of laughs, however, Hermione found that her gaze persistently returned to the group of Slytherins and Draco Malfoy in particular, the tiny changes in him from the tormenting boy that she remembered so remarkable to her that she found herself captivated without really being able to articulate quite what it was drawing her in, or why she cared.

\----------

 

The night came to a close and, while the others stepped through the Floo and home to their beds, Hermione knew she would not be able to settle without finishing one last job for the day. With the couple of alcoholic drinks she had consumed giving her the extra boost to continue, she quickly returned to the Ministry of Magic, walking through the dark and empty halls and entered one of the small conference rooms off of her main office. With two flicks of her wand the blinds were drawn and a video camera levitated out of the cupboard. She crossed the room and seated herself at the desk opposite to where it was pointed. Opening the top drawer she pulled and a small black mask, slipping it over her head to cover her eyes and nose, and a tube of lipstick, applying a slick of deep red to her lips, a shade she would never dare wear as just plain old Hermione Granger.

She pointed her wand at the video camera and the red light began flashing.

“Hi guys!” She smiled sweetly into the lens, “Welcome to another addition of _Magic_ _Debunked_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone remember the masked magician show from like the late 90s? I loved it and that was my inspiration for Hermione in this. I have had this headcannon of wizards engaging with the internet and becoming vloggers as a way to subtly undermine any muggles who were getting a little too close to discovering real magic. 
> 
> anyway...thank you so much for all of those who have given kudos and subscribed so far, each notification that someone is reading and liking it so far is giving me life!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: brief references to suicide, eating disorders and self-harm, no explicit detail but feel free to message if you want more information before reading.

“Harry James Potter,” Hermione stormed into his office, “I know there is a crisis, but so help me if you take one more of my bloody staff for your task force without telling me I will hex you so hard your children will walk with a limp.”

“Woah!” Harry held his hands up in mock surrender, too used to Hermione’s threats to take them too seriously, “Don’t worry Hermione, I’ve already put in a request and you’ll be getting a new person this week.”

She rolled her eyes as she sat heavily down in the chair opposite his desk, it was a Saturday and they had both had to come in to work, so she was already surrounded by a cloud of frustration, the staff transfer form that she had found on her desk had done nothing but add to her terrible mood, “I liked Perkins, Arthur recommended him, he’s been around forever and doesn’t need his hand holding through every task.”

“Yes, I know, that’s why I needed him, it’s the only perk of being the boss on such a high priority case that I have right now,” Harry grinned at her unapologetically, “I get to have all the best people.”

Hermione huffed a sigh, knowing that she could not argue with her friend on that point and crossed her arms across her chest, wanting to hang on to her anger for just a little while longer. “Well, whoever this new person is they just better not be slow, I do not have time to be training idiots right now.”

Harry returned to his working, knowing that her anger with him was passing. He opened his top drawer and pulled out a box of licorice wands, handing one to her and taking one for himself, when in doubt a healthy dose of sugar solved everything.

“So, how long is Ron gracing us with his presence this time then?” Hermione asked, redirecting the last of her anger to a new topic instead.

Harry gave her a stern look, “As long as he wants to Hermione, he lives there too, just like you do.”

“Until he runs off again at least.” She smirked, her usual jibe to throw out whenever she had no new insults to throw his way, she acknowledged that it made her sound bitter but sometimes she just couldn’t help herself. “And what about whatshername?” She made a point to forget Ron’s girlfriend’s name as often as she was able to, definitely bitter, still not apologetic, “does she live there now too?”

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes, too tired to navigate the fragile friendship that now existed between his two best friends following their separation. “Hermione, _please,_ can you just try and get along?”

“What?” She asked incredulously, “I am perfectly civil.”

Harry did not respond further than a pointed look, Hermione met his eyes, unabashed.

“Fine,” She sighed, breaking the stalemate, “you could mention to him that he is a wizard and should know a silencing charm though, it would be nice to be able to get some sleep in my own home sometime soon without having to listen to some bimbo fake her way through an orgasm every fucking night.”

“Noted,” He laughed, “Now go and do some bloody work, don’t make me fire you.”

Hermione laughed along with him the tension she had been holding released now that she had been able to vent to her friend. She grabbed another licorice wand from the box that was still out on the desk and crossed the room to the door, “Yes boss.” She answered with a mocking salute as she left his office.

 

\----------

 

Daphne walked along the street of Diagon Alley slowly, after promising to have a slow night the night before, knowing that she wanted to be fresh for her meeting that morning, she had been too easily coerced into bad behavior by her friends. She quietly scolded herself as her head pounded, she was usually the sensible one of the group, not prone to letting go and going wild, but the joy of having her friend back had surpassed her controlling nature.

The majority of her friends had served jail sentences, had their properties seized, been unable to get work further than entry level positions and lived a life of secluded disgrace since the end of the war. While the Greengrass family, who had remained staunchly neutral throughout the war, had avoided much of this treatment Daphne still found herself reflecting that the past five years had been difficult for her too.

In the aftermath of the war she had attended countless funerals for her classmates, all gone much too soon. Vince, for whom they had buried an empty coffin, his body burnt beyond retrieval in the room of requirement. And then Greg, who had opted for a night of fire-whisky and too many pain potions to end his life instead of impending Azkaban sentence that he faced, had followed soon after. She had sat, stony faced, in the court rooms of the Ministry of Magic and watched as Blaise, then Theo, and finally Draco, were given sentences of varying lengths for the acts of dark magic, the assistance to Death Eaters, the knowledge of the crimes of their parents each had attached to her name. She had been as surprised as all of the others the day that Harry Potter had entered the courtroom and provided his passionate defense of Draco, and she had wept tears of bitterness and joy when his sentence had been reduced from ten years to five.

For a long time, it had been just her and Pansy, bitterly against the world, their usual social circles decimated and then slowly their friends returned to them, broken and vulnerable, forever changed from their time in prison. And, for the first year following the war, she had watched her friend diminish gradually caving in to the pressure of the complete loss of control that they had on their world. For many months she had said nothing while Pansy obsessively counted calories and monitored every crumb that passed her lips. The curves that Daphne had been so jealous of for so many years wasted away, her bright skin sallowed and shiny hair dulled. Daphne did not know what to do and she floundered, she was only a child still, she would tell herself, it wasn’t her place to step in, she didn’t know how to solve the problems, what could she do?

But, realizing that, with both Mr and Mrs Parkinson also serving sentences in Azkaban she was the only family that Pansy had, Daphne realized that her excuses and concerns were not enough and doing something was better than staying silent. A year of tense and stilted friendship followed until Pansy reached the point where she was willing to accept that she needed help. Daphne now felt a sense of sisterly pride every time Pansy was able to sit at a dinner table and finish a meal without immediately excusing herself. As Blaise, and then later Theo, returned from Azkaban, each with their own baggage along for the ride, the group clung to each other with desperate need, each sinking in their own despair while trying to keep the others afloat, hoping soon that they would find their footing once more and life would begin to hint at something close to normality.  

And now, _finally,_ her group was back as close was now possible for it to be how it had been before and so even Daphne felt the need to raise several glasses to the occasion. A happy night was what she had needed before the horror and the pain returned as Draco inevitably worked through his own demons alongside the rest of them, for now he was free and that was all that mattered.  

As fun as the night had been however, she was regretting her choices now as she approached the garish orange painted building. She took several seconds outside, eyes closed, breathing deeply and trying to collect herself before entering the building of one of the most irritating people that she had ever had the misfortune of knowing.

Daphne had been sitting one of her OWLs exams on the day that Fred and George Weasley had made their dramatic exit from the school. As thrilling as it had been for all the students, they had been required to return to the Great Hall to complete the exam. She had received a “Poor” having been far too distracted to effectively use her time once she was back in her seat and had then spent the entire summer studying to retake the exam, not wanting it to limit her options for her future studies. This memory was always the first that sprang to mind when thinking of George Weasley, a loud, brash, overwhelming presence that superseded all others around him with very little concern for them or their needs. Memories of the countless pranks that had plagued the students’ time at Hogwarts then followed to add to the list of her complaints, so amusing to the Gryffindors, the antics had been so _bloody annoying_ to just about everyone else who just wanted a quiet and drama free life. From all she could remember of him, the prospect of having to now interact with him again was not something that she was excited about having to endure.

“Ok,” She coached herself, “In and out, drop off your potions, get out of there before he can turn your hair purple or something stupid. Don’t laugh at his jokes, it will only encourage him.”  

With one last, self-indulgent, sigh she pushed open the door to Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes, flinching as a claxon sounded in lieu of a bell.

The shop was empty, still early in the day the usual Saturday shoppers would not yet have finished their breakfast, and so the space was, thankfully quiet. The door behind the counter opened and George emerged from a back room. Daphne was instantly struck by the clear changes apparent in the man. The dynamic stocky Beater with the willful grin who never stopped moving was no more, the man before her was gaunt, withdrawn and slow.

“Mr Weasley,” She greeted him, extending her hand to him to shake, “Daphne Greengrass, we have a meeting about my potion line and

He remained still, gazing at her for several seconds before her words seemed to sink through the fog of his brain, he nodded slowly and returned her handshake with a limp grip.

Having braced herself for the over the top personality that she had feared she was taken aback by this quiet man before her, she could hardly reconcile the man she was speaking to with the boy that she remembered. Having been so used to seeing the ghastly transformations that war had made possible in her friends she had believed that she had seen the worst of it, now she was not so sure.

“Um,” She hesitated for a moment and then opted to continue despite the lack of acknowledgement she had received, “I have some samples of the stock that we discussed via owl, I was thinking I could leave you with a small amount of stock for now for you to test or put out on the shelves to see what sells well and then, once you have more of a feel for the products, you can let me know what you would like to order? No charge for now of course.”

George nodded slowly, “Yeah that sounds fine,” was his flat reply, “can you talk me through the items?”  

Daphne nodded and opened up the case that she carried with her, inside, set into a neatly cut foam surround, sat four rows of four glass vials.

She described each potion and its effects; the hair colour changing serum which allowed the drinker to change the colour of their hair at will from glossy blondes to flashing rainbow stripes, the only limitation was the drinker’s imagination.

Then the blemish corrector that Daphne had spent her teenage years perfecting, all the ones that she had tried before leaving her with dry and flaky skin that she had deemed just not good enough, taking to her cauldron to solve the matter herself.

A bee sting potion that produced a slightly swollen effect to the drinker’s lips, allowing the full and beautiful lips that teenage girls longed for.

And finally, the one that she was most proud of, a clear and tasteless solution that a person could add to a drink, should any other potion or powder then be added the potion would turn bright red alerting the drinker of the potential that their drink had been spiked. Following some troubling stories that she had read in _Witch Weekly,_ Daphne had made this particular potion her main project, it had taken around a year to perfect it and ensure that it worked correctly, she had finally completed her final product only two weeks earlier. George was the first person beside Theo that she had shown it to.  

George listened to her descriptions quietly, asking for clarification where he needed it, but betraying no real emotion behind the words leaving Daphne anxious that he hated everything that she was showing him.

“Thank you,” George took the case from her hands and stored it safely behind the counter, “I will contact you in a week with my order.”

With no further comment, he turned away and walked back through the door behind the counter that he had walked through only fifteen minutes earlier when Daphne arrived. A very bemused Daphne was left alone in the shop, the meeting completely different to what she had been bracing herself for, she found herself standing for several minutes pondering the man. Having been so certain that she would be overwhelmed by his exuberance, the quiet and reserved man that had stood before her was baffling, she was used to getting the measure of people quickly, working out their quirks and desires and using them to her own advantage, it was an uncomfortable feeling to experience.

She left the shop and continued with her day, however she found that her thoughts continued to return to the man who she found she was increasingly intrigued by with every passing moment.

 

\----------

 

A tapping at the window distracted Draco from the book that he had spent the majority of the morning absorbed.

 

_Books!_ He resolved if he ever got his hands on a timeturner he would travel back to see his fourteen-year-old self and give him a ruddy good talking to for ever complaining about all the reading required at Hogwarts. For the past five years he had longed for any reading material having been denied access to the extremely limited library contained within Azkaban, he would have even enjoyed the painfully dull Arithmancy text book that had remained in his case, unopened, throughout the entirety of his OWL and NEWT years.

 

Glancing over to the source of the noise he could see a small tawny owl rapping its beak against the window pane. Using his wand as a bookmark he placed the book down on the sofa he was seated on and opened the window. The owl chirped as it hoped through the opening into the room and Draco ruffled its head lightly before untying the letter from its leg. As soon as it deemed its delivery fulfilled the owl pushed off from the window sill, completed one lap of the room and soared back out of the window and into the sky. Draco watched as it became a speck on the horizon and then closed the glass and turned his attention to the small scroll in his hand.

 

_Dear Mr Malfoy,_

_I trust this letter find you well. Please take this as formal notification of your first parole visit which will take place at eleven thirty this morning._

_Yours sincerely_

_Mr Nigel Johnston_

 

Draco glanced over to the clock on the mantelpiece, it was currently twenty five minutes past eleven. Not much of a notice period he thought bitterly and made his way into the hallway and propped himself against the wall opposite the fireplace, arms folded, waiting. 

 

Only three minutes later green flames appeared in the grate and a shot and balding man stepped out. 

 

“Mr Malfoy?” The man confirmed and Draco have a curt nod. “Mr Johnston. I presume that you got my owl?” 

 

Another nod. 

 

“Right,” he cleared his throat, shuffling the papers that he had in his hands, “is there somewhere we can sit? I have some paperwork for you to compete.” 

 

Draco held out a hand, motioning down the hallway towards the kitchen and Mr Johnston followed him into the room.

 

They sat at the wooden table, Draco did not offer the man a cup of tea and Mr Johnston did not seem interested in enquiring about how Draco was settling back into life outside of Azkaban.

 

_This is going to be a beautiful relationship,_ Draco thought wryly as his parole officer ticked his way through the Ministry issued checklist that he was required to complete. Draco was sure that the man was not really listening to his responses as he shoved countless pieces of paper towards him to sign.

 

The visit took precisely seven minutes and forty-two seconds, and before Draco knew it Mr Johnston was shaking his hand and confirming that he would see him in a month, reminding him of the limitations of his parole and serving the warning that even one toe out of line would

 

“So, that’s everything for today,” Mr Johnston confirmed as he returned to the fireplace in the hallway, picking up the box of Floo powder from the ornately carved table beside it. “You’ll be expected to report to the Main Reception in the Ministry of Magic on Monday morning for your work assignment.”

 

Draco, who had barely listened to anything the man was saying, was suddenly shaken to attention, “Wait, what was that?”

 

“Your working assignment,” Mr Johnston repeated and seeing the look of confusion on Draco’s face sighed, letting the Floo powder he had been holding sift through his fingers and back into the box which he still held, he explained impatiently, “You were informed of this on the day of your release, all released prisoners are required to undertake a minimum of six months work with immediate effect. You will attend the Ministry of Magic and your work assignment will be given to you.”

 

It sounded familiar; truth be told a lot of the information that Draco had been given on his release that had gone by him completely having been so overwhelmed with the mere thought that he was going to be a free man once more. Draco nodded, confirming that he understood what he had been told. Mr Johnston smiled his relief and quickly left before any further questions could come his way.

 

“Theo!” Draco called out into the cavernous hallway, rousing his friend who he assumed would still be sleeping. He had less than forty-eight hours before it seemed he would be starting work, he realised, he needed to live it up while he still had the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who had left kudos, subscribed, bookmarked and a special thank you to PurpleLotus my first comment'er! Y'all give me life!


	5. Chapter 5

“Right this way Mr. Malfoy.” The young receptionist called over her shoulder as she clipped down the hall on her high heels.

Draco paused for a moment, appreciating the way the woman’s hips wiggled, before following, pulling at the neck of his uncomfortable formal robes, a touch too tight for him five years later, the last time that he had worn these fitted robes had been for his trial and he was trying his best to keep those memories at bay.

He followed the receptionist through the winding halls of the Ministry of Magic building, following her to the office he had been assigned to, he had still not been informed where or what he would be doing. The nervous anxiety that had been bubbling in his stomach all morning seemed to increase with every step, every frosty sideways glace from those who walked past him on the way to wherever he was going. He tugged at the collar of his robes once more, pulling it high so it covered his neck and the tattoo with his prisoner number that was now branded onto it, and then his left sleeve to cover his Dark Mark.

Finally, the receptionist opened a door and led Draco into a large office. They crossed the room towards the large desk at the opposite end of the room and Draco’s eyes fall upon the brunette woman seated at it.

 _Oh, of bloody course,_ he thought as he watched Hermione re-ink her quill and continue to scratch away at the parchment before her, _fan-fucking-tastic, it bloody had to be Granger._

 

Hermione looked up and Draco caught the briefest glimmer of shock in her eyes before a mask of utter indifference slammed down over her face.

“Mr. Malfoy please take a seat.” She gestured to the chair the was opposite her, across the table. Draco complied. The brittle professionalism of Hermione’s words startled him, he had been expecting fury, pity, sarcasm, something with some hurt or anger or pain behind it. But instead it seemed that Hermione was completely detached, like he was a complete stranger to her. In a way, he supposed, he was.

They were both silent for several long and awkward moments. Hermione chewed on her lip thoughtfully before shaking her head slightly and offering him a bland smile.

“Well, welcome to the DMLE, you will of course be fulfilling a purely administrative role. This division is focused on liaising between and muggle and wizarding world to ensure the protection of all people both magical and not.”

Hermione paused, chewing on her lip again, considering what to say next.

“Look, Malfoy – Mr. Malfoy, sorry – this job is important, in the past ten years the developments to the technological world have made the risk of exposure so much greater, it is important that the Statute of Secrecy is maintained and that hostility from both sides are controlled and reduced.”

Draco smirked, _naught to defensive in 0.6 seconds,_ he mused. The eager-to-please to the point of irritating classmate that he so clearly remembered was before him once more, “I completely agree _Miss_ Granger, you don’t have to labour the point to me at all, I’m very happy for the muggles to know nothing about us.”

 

He hadn’t meant for the bitterness in his voice, but still it had creeped in as images of the countless muggle casualties of the war flashed through his mind. When there had been no one else of interest to torture, muggles had been rounded up and brought before the Dark Lord so that he could display his power and believed superiority.

The dining table in the Malfoy Manor was stained with so much blood that Draco had been surprised that it had even ignited the day that he held his wand against it, just days before his trial came to its conclusion, wanted to burn away all of the hideous things he had been forced to watch while seated at it. Even when it had been reduced to ash he knew he would never be able to get rid of the screams and pleading in his head.

 _No,_ Malfoy thought to himself, _never again did he want to allow a muggle to see what a wizard could do._

Her eyes darted up and met with his, the first time that she looked at him directly, his stomach lurched just as it had done before in the bar. He studied her, trying to read the expression. When Potter looked at him there was pain and pity and guilt. When Weasley looked at him there was disgust and fury. When his friends looked at him there was relief, pain and panic that he was about to leap off the deep end and go completely insane. The receptionist who had met him this morning had looked at him first with lust and intrigue, pouting her lips and flicking her hair as he had approached her that morning. He had watched and could pin point the moment that look died and was replaced with distaste as she realized who he was. 

But Granger? Granger he could not figure out, it had bothered him all through his evening at the Leaky Cauldron when they had first locked eyes and now that frustration was rekindled. It was captivating and deeply uncomfortable in equal measure. Draco prided himself in being above average in the skills of perception department, he had used his ability to read people to his own advantage throughout his school years, bending his peers to his juvenile command. The fact that the girl who had been academically one step ahead of his all through adolescence was now, seemingly, untouchable in this regard also was a downright insult.

 

“Miss Granger?” Another member of the office approached her desk interrupting them and breaking the trance that had captured them both, Hermione looked startled and then relieved as she looked away from him and up towards the young woman. “We’ve located the muggle from the video leak last week and he’s in the interview room.”  

Hermione stood, smiling, and began to walk away before remembering that Draco remained sitting at her desk. She turned back to him, “You can come too, it will be good for you to watch and get an idea of what the job entails, follow us.” She beckoned him with her hand and turned back to follow her colleague.  

Draco rose from his seat and followed the two women across the office and into a small room that was bare save for three seats facing a large window. Through the window Draco could see an interview room

Hermione stood in the corner of the room discussing the details of the case with the other woman in hushed tones. Ignoring them Draco took a seat and studied the muggle man through the glass.

He had sandy blond hair, a stocky build and was gazing around the room with obvious confusion as to why he was there.

The women continued to talk at the back of the room, a few minutes passed and the door to the interview room opened and two uniformed officers entered. They were in shirts and trousers, forgoing their robes so as to not trouble the muggle that they were speaking with any more than necessary.

“Mr. Andrew Hopkins of 56 Elm Avenue, Manningtree, is that correct?” Came the tinny voice of the first officer through the intercom in front of Draco, he shifted forward in his seat so that he could better hear the interview and watched as Andrew Hopkins nodded.

The man looked vaguely familiar to him and Draco frowned as he tried to work out why that might be, but he had no success. Hermione and the other witch finished their whispered conversation and seated themselves besides Draco.

“The muggle in there was a witness to an unauthorized magic display at the beginning of last week along with a crowd of others, all the rest have been obliviated. This one however had a videorecorder -” She paused, acknowledging Draco’s look of confusion, “- it’s a muggle device which is able to capture moving images and sounds, like a magical photograph in some ways.” She explained before continuing, “Anyway, he caught the magic on camera and we need to question his to check what he’s done with the video and make sure there aren’t copies of it that we’ve missed before we obliviate him like all of the others.”

Draco nodded and his eyes returned to the interview, but was distracted once more as a paper airplane flew into the room through the crack under the door and landed on Hermione’s outstretched hand. She opened the note and skimmed the contents.

“I need to go,” She informed the room, “You stay here, watch what’s happening and I’ll be back soon.”

Before Draco had chance to respond Hermione had slipped from the room. She glanced back down at the note in her hand, _Lunch later?_ In Harry’s familiar scrawl, not urgent, but they didn’t need to know that, it was the excuse that she had needed to escape and process just what in the hell was going on. She walked as fast as she could without running all the way along the corridor until she reached Harry’s office and walked in without knocking.

“Malfoy!” She cried with dismay, “They’ve only bloody gone and sent me Malfoy! Did you do this on purpose? Did I wrong you in some way that I wasn’t aware of?”

“I have very little clue what you’re talking about.” Harry blinked at her, trying to process the babble that had come from her mouth.

“Catch up Potter,” Ginny grinned, seated on the low sofa behind where Hermione stood. “Malfoy is working for Hermione, which I, for the record, think is _hilarious_ by the way.”

Hermione sat down next to the woman who pulled her into a consoling hug. Hermione was very used to Ginny being in Harry’s office, she stopped by whenever she was able to between her travelling and match schedule.

“You know Harry isn’t imaginative enough to have planned this himself.” Ginny pointed out and Hermione nodded glumly, agreeing with her friend. Harry gave a cry of protest that they both ignored.

“So it’s just the universe that hates me then,” Hermione deadpanned, “good to know. I feel like being a famous war hero should come with perks like not having to work alongside the villains, don’t you think?”  

“So you’re finally siding with Ron on something then? You don’t think he should be out of prison and getting on with life.” Harry asked, knowing he was pulling the pin on a grenade.

“Woah! Let’s not get crazy in here, agreeing with Ron is a little steep.” She laughed, acknowledging her usual neurosis. “Like I’ve always said I am not taking sides in the great Harry verses Ron war of Draco Malfoy, but it doesn’t mean I have to be thrilled about seeing his damn face every bloody working day, he was a git at school and I’m not particularly thrilled to see if he’s still a git now.”

“Oh, he is absolutely going to be a git still, I’m pretty sure that its coded into his magic.” Ginny snorted, unsympathetic to her friend’s distress.

“You know its good for him to have a job,” Harry reminded her, “you were part of the scheme that means he has one in fact! How many times did we have to hear about the percentage drop in reoffences when we ensure that released convicts have a regular income, blah-blah-blah-blaaahhhh.”

Ginny snorted and Hermione pursed her lips, knowing that she was beaten.

“Well you two are a fat lot of good.” She sighed and stood back up, “I better get back to work, try not to spend all morning canoodling!”

“No promises” Ginny grinned and Harry flushed bright red as Hermione closed the door behind her and returned to her own office.

 

A high-pitched laugh greeted her as she opened the door to the observation room and she watched as Draco and her intern quickly moved apart, sitting rigidly back in their seats, eyes on the interview in front of them. Hermione frowned, angered at their proximity.

 _They are supposed to be working, that’s why I’m annoyed,_ she told herself quickly, justifying her own feelings to herself.  

“Well, I’m glad to see you’ll both be able to give me a thorough update on what’s been happening then.” She raised an eyebrow at them both pointedly. “Emily, perhaps you should go and get on with something else now.”

The young girl nodded, her cheeks flushing, and quickly left the room. Hermione instantly felt guilty the she had directed her anger at the girl and resolved to apologise to her later in the day.

For now, though, she turned to Draco, “So are you going to take anything seriously while you’re here?” She snapped. “I’d just like to know so I can plan my time accordingly, if you’re not going to take it seriously, I won’t waste my time by training you.”

Draco kept his eyes on the floor, chastised and frustrated at her patronizing tone, “We were just _talking_ Granger, didn’t realise that was against your rules.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed, this was going to be a bloody long six months, she resolved.

 

\-----------

 

The rest of the day passed with little incident, although Hermione managed to develop a pounding headache as the day continued. She set Draco off on organizing interview records for the afternoon, meaning he was safely sequestered in the records room alone for the majority of the day.

For the first time that she could remember she had her coat on and was walking out the office at the same time as her employees, for once the thought of overtime was unbearable no matter how much work she still had to do.

The line for the Floo was much longer than she was used to and by the time she stepped out of the hearth into Grimmauld Place she was in an absolutely terrible mood. Unfortunately, it did not seem like her roommates had gotten the memo. She walked into the living room to Harry and Ginny snuggled together on the sofa, Ron and Isabelle sat opposite, him seated on the armchair and her on his lap, nuzzling his neck. They were all talking animatedly and Hermione realized that the topic of the evening was Harry and Ginny’s wedding plans.

Hermione sat for a while, accepted a glass of wine, and drank it far too quickly. With every passing moment her unavoidable singleness seemed to become more and more obvious until it was the only thing that she could think about. It was unbearable. Since Ron had left her, she had begrudgingly taken on the role of the third-wheel with Harry and Ginny, neither being the most overtly affectionate around others and so, most of the time she was able to cope. In fact, most of the time she was able to revel in her singleness, not having to answer to anyone, not having to negotiate or compromise, it was freeing, some days it felt positively empowering.

However, tonight, a fifth-wheel, watching Ron and Isabelle sucking each-other’s faces like their lives depended on it was too much for her.

She leapt up from her seat, causing Ginny to pause mid-sentence in the story that she had been telling, that Hermione had not taken in a word of.

“Sorry,” Hermione muttered, downing the dregs in her wine glass, “I’ve just got to get some air.”

She had grabbed her coat and was out the front door before any of them could question her. She pulled the lapels of the jacket up over her ears, bracing against the cold. She stood for a moment, taking deep breaths, before deciding that it was much too cold to remain still.

She bent her head and started to walk, no specific destination in mind, just knowing that she needed to get away.

It was fifteen minutes before the cold creeping sensation descended upon her. She stopped in her tracks this time and furiously looked around her, outraged at the thought that someone would even dare to watch her.

There was no one there. Again.

She shook her head, reminding herself of how idiotic she had felt last time she had felt this ominous feeling, how sure she had been that she was being followed and how long it had taken for the adrenaline to dissipate when it had all been nothing. She stood still, head bowed in defeat, feeling so, _so,_ alone.

She shook her hands out, as though trying to shake away the feeling of fear, furious at herself for even feeling it in the first place. Heaving a deep sigh, she decided that she had had enough of the day, and turned on her heel to head home and go to bed, in the hopes that the morning would bring with it a more cheerful outlook.  


	6. Chapter 6

“So, want to tell me what’s going on?” Ginny questioned as she flopped down on the sofa beside Hermione.

As the week had passed Hermione’s feeling of unease had not gone with it. If anything, it had seemed to increase, any sudden or unexpected noise made her flinch and her heart beat frantically in her chest. It would take longer and longer each time to return to a sense of normality. Her nails were chewed down to ragged stumps and dark rings encircled her eyes constantly.

“Wha-what, I don’t know what you m-mean.” Hermione stammered, bringing a finger up to her mouth and chewing at the torn flesh around her nail bed.

“Well for a start,” Ginny pointedly stared at Hermione’s hands, “you are in desperate need of a manicure and that is _Hermione is not ok_ sign one.”

Hermione quickly stopped her nail biting, her hand instead going to her hair, continuously twirling a strand around her fingers, probably sign number two she thought to herself.

“I’ve just been a little stressed at work,” Hermione shrugged, “old habits die hard, you know how it is.”

Ginny shook her head slightly, her eyes pitying, and reached out to take Hermione’s hand in her own to stop her continuous movement, clearing her throat uncomfortably.

“I’m worried that you’re getting like before…” Ginny trailed off, unsure how to continue, pursing her lips tightly together.

Hermione’s cheeks flushed red and she could hear the increased blood flow pulsing in her ears, feeling trapped from the unexpected confrontation. She shook her head, pulling her hand from Ginny’s firm grip, and rubbed her hands over her face, forcing a smile and mirthless laugh.

“I’m _fine._ ” She tried her best for a reassuring tone but even to her own ears she knew that she had not achieved it, “I’m just a little tired is all, it’s been hard to sleep with the extra people in the house.”

Ginny opened her mouth, ready to disagree, ready to call Hermione out on her obvious diversion tactic, but then closed it again, the words dying on her lips before she even started.  

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes while Hermione’s mind worked on overdrive thinking first how she could distract her friend onto another topic, something safe. She realized that she was too exhausted to be able to come up with another topic, and begrudgingly admitted that this very fact gave merit to what her friend was saying.  

Ginny was referring to the long stretch of difficult months following the war where the trauma and loss had manifested in all of them in very different ways. For Hermione, it had been overwhelming anxiety and panic attacks and culminating in a painful period of hopelessness and depression.

Months had passed with Hermione existing in a state of frenetic energy, unable to sleep for longer than a couple of hours at the time, she had carried that black beaded bag until Christmas, still stocked with books, spare clothes, potions, anything she deemed as potential useful against the imminent threat of attack that she still could not shake off. She had shed two stone in weight and her already slim frame had become skeletal. Even Ron, who had first marveled at the sexiness of Hermione’s slim waist, had kissed his way along the more prominent bones of her clavicle and used any excuse to run his hands over her more evident hip bones, had begun to express his concern and did his best to coax more food onto her plate whenever possible.

The level-headed, logical Hermione that her friends were so familiar with had disappeared and had level behind a tearful, irrational wreck of skin and bones.

Her pride had remained, and for countless months, she had expended her already flagging energy on convincing all of those around her that she was doing just fine. Even with Harry and Ron she had plastered on a smile and made sure that she was there to support them through their own issues. But the moment she was alone, behind a locked door, usually the bathroom with the shower running, she would collapse into a heap of uncontrollable sobs. Once she was done, she would wash her face, muster up a smile once more and return to her friends, convinced that they were none the wiser.

It had been almost a year since the battle of Hogwarts when Hermione had finally reached breaking point and the exhaustion of perpetual anxiety and depression overcame her and she found that she was unable to get out of bed for four days in a row. Even the thought of having a shower brought her to exhausted tears, far too much to cope with. She ate only small bites of the food that Harry, Ron and Ginny forced upon her and, after much pleading, agreed to see a mind healer.

She had been prescribed Calming Draught, Dreamless Sleep, and various other potions over a six-month period along with regular therapy sessions which she had attended under duress and with little expectation.

Although she resisted the help to begin with her therapist had been patient but firm and slowly, they had begun to unpack some of the baggage that Hermione had been carrying with her from the previous few years. The more she talked the less anxiety she felt and, after a year of regular sessions she began to realize that the old Hermione seemed to be back in control of her life.  

And now, inexplicably, Hermione realized, that these feelings were creeping back and taking over again.

She reflected over the past week, she realized that she had cried at least once each day, sometime with frustration at a task at work, sometime as she lay in bed feeling so alone convincing herself that she would be alone forever, who would want her after all?

She couldn’t remember the last time that she had had a full meal, taking quick bites of food here and there alongside countless cups of coffee each day to compensate for the diminishing sleep that she had night after night.

What had been a subtle passive aggressive standoff with Ron and his girlfriend in previous weeks had instead manifest itself in snide comments, snapped insults and complaints instead.

All thing that she and her therapist had identified as warning signs all those years before in her sessions, it had been a long period of feeling good again following a couple of small dips that Hermione realized that she no longer scrutinized her own behavior in such an obsessive way as she had done in months gone by and so these feelings had snuck through little by little until it seemed that she was already in the midst of it once more.

She sighed and folded forward burying her face in her hands, tears pricking in her eyes. “I think you’re right.” She mumbled through her fingers and Ginny stroked her back, allowing the tears to come with the pain of admitting it. In her mind she had failed once more, and yet at the same time she was proud that this breakthrough had come before she was anywhere close to the mess that she had got to before.

It was ten minutes before Hermione had cried herself out and was able to speak again.

“I feel scared all the time,” She sighed, “I don’t know why, I can’t tell you what started it but I just feel like something is about to go horribly wrong, there is someone waiting in the shadows to swoop in and ruin everything.”

The catharsis of admitting it felt good, and surprising even herself she continued, “I feel like I’m being watched all the time and I can’t shake the feeling off.”

She stopped, frowning, she had not planned to say it but as soon she did, she realized just how much this thought had been bothering her. From that first night as she was walking home, and then again, the previous week, she realized she had not fully been able to settle or relax, the hair on her arms stood on end and the back of her neck prickled on a regular basis. Whenever it did, she would stop in place, glancing frantically around her trying to locate the source of her discomfort with no success.

“Hermione you are safe.” Ginny firmly stated, emphasizing each word, “we all spent a lot of our lives not safe and I think its normal that we still sometimes expect that our lives are like that, like they used to be.” Ginny had also attended several months of therapy and Hermione could clearly hear her therapist speaking through her friend, she couldn’t help but smile. “And quite frankly, you are rather famous, people are probably looking at you, you’re a bad-ass savior of the wizarding world feminist icon, I say own it.”

At that Hermione snorted.

“I am safe, I am safe, I am safe.” She repeated several times, her mantra, and then laughed some more as she added, “I am a bad-ass savior feminist icon.”

Ginny laughed along with her. “Fuck yeah!”

She reached out and squeezed Ginny’s hand, “Thank you.” She smiled feeling much better than she had in weeks, “I think I’m going to go to bed and finally get some sleep now.”

Ginny nodded, “You know you can always talk to me don’t you Hermione? You don’t always have to be the strong one.” She reminded her, Hermione nodded, smiling faintly at her friend as she left the room and retreated to her bedroom already feeling a little lighter with the realization that she had been allowing her disorders thoughts to take root once more and feeling empowered to shut them down and get back to a better sense of normalcy. She slept for six hours straight for the first time in six days.  

 

\----------

 

Draco jolted awake with a yell sitting up in bed panting heavily and sweating profusely, it took a full minute and several deep breaths before the remnants of the nightmare cleared from his mind and his heartbeat returned to a steady rhythm. Sunlight was already peeking through the crack in the curtains across the room, cutting a line of light into the darkness around it and Draco sighed, knowing that he would not be able to get back to sleep, and threw the blankets off of his legs. He grabbed t-shirt and pulled it over his head as he left his room, making his was towards the kitchen in search of strong coffee. Each da y since he left Azkaban it seemed that his dreams of the place became even more vivid, it seemed that he had not yet fully escaped from its clutches and each morning it took a little longer to remind himself that he was no longer there, that he was free.

It was still early enough the Draco had not expected any of his housemates to be awake yet, none of them being particularly early risers, and so he was surprised to hear giggling as he approached the kitchen. Cautiously pushing open the door and immediately regretting it. He could see the long thin legs of a woman dangling over the side of the large oak table that stood in the center of the room, she was sprawled across the surface, eyes shut and moaning her delight as a man knelt before her, head buried between her thighs.

“For fucks sake, not where we eat!” Draco complained as he spun on his heel and exited the room.

“But I am eating!” came Blaise’s reply, Draco could tell from the tone that his friend would be laughing at his own joke for the next several hours, followed swiftly by a distressed screech from the woman as she realized that they had unexpected company. Draco did not hang around to offer any apologies but stomped back to his room, mood worsening with every passing second.

With no hopes of being able to even make himself a coffee in his own home he pulled on a set of robes and apparated to the closest point to the Ministry of Magic, consoling himself that at least the café there would not come with its own peep show. His head was pounding from lack of sleep and a knot in his stomach formed as the scene that had confronted him forced him to confront just how long it had been since he had touched a woman, since he had been touched. A lubrication spell and his own hand at the dead of night did just not cut it.

He almost growled at a couple who had the audacity to be holding hands in the same lift as him, feeling it was a personal affront, a way to highlight just how alone he was. It was like they were rubbing salt in a wound that he hadn’t even realized that he had until that moment. He got off the lift at the next floor and opted to take the rarely used stairs the rest of the way.

As always Hermione was already in the office as he arrived, he wondered how early he would have to arrive to be at his desk before she was and resolved that he would try to find out before instantly dismissing the thought in favor of remaining in bed like a sensible human being. He did not acknowledge her and shuffled across the room into the records office that adjoined it. His task of record organization still remained and he had made only a small dent in the paperwork so far. The though of another day of work that he saw little purpose in added even more fury to the storm that was brewing in his mind.

It was getting close to lunch time when Draco’s bad mood finally got the better of him, one paper cut too many sent him over the edge and he stomped over to Hermione’s desk.

“Look Granger, I’m very _thankful for this job,_ so very grateful for the _opportunity to get back on my feet._ ” He parroted the words that his parole officer drilled into him about the importance of working, “But _please_ can I do something other than file papers, I’m going to go _insane_.”

Hermione looked up from the memo that had just landed on her desk from her assistant, it read _code BU in interview room 2, bring tissues!_  

She grinned, “Ok then, I have something you can do, come with me.”

Draco was taken aback, having braced himself even as his outburst started for a telling off at the very least, he did not know how to take Hermione’s cheerful demeanor. For the past week she had been sullen and silent, barely acknowledging him unless it was absolutely necessary to, he did not know how to react to this change in attitude. He decided his best option was compliance and so he followed her through the hallway until they stood outside of interview room 2.

“Today you can take the lead on interviewing the person inside this room.” Hermione informed him, enjoying the shock that played across his face, “you’ve watched a couple of interviews now so I think its time that you have a go yourself, diving right in is the best way to learn in my book.”

Draco nodded but said nothing, he wasn’t sure that he agreed and scolded himself for not paying closer attention when he had been able to observe various interview taking place over the past few days that he had been working.

“I’ll just be on the other side of the window in case it goes horrible wrong.” Hermione added with a saccharine grin and Draco scowled at the suggestion that she expected him to do badly, new resolve building that he would be able to do this and do it well.

“All you need to do is speak with the woman inside,” Hermione explained, picking up the clipboard that hung next to the door, “here are the details that the intake officer recorded, the woman is a witch, she has been dating a muggle man and has breached the ISS by telling him about her abilities, looks like the relationship didn’t last long after that. Take her version of the events down, get the details of the muggle and then I’ll show you how to fill out an obilviation requisition form, ok?”

She didn’t give him time to respond and thrust the clipboard into his hands, walking further along the corridor to another door, “Like I said I’ll be next door.”

She entered the observation room and shut the door firmly behind her before Draco had any time to protest. She seated herself in front of the window and waited for Draco to enter the interview room, it took him several minutes more but she smiled as he finally did.

She leant forward and pressed a button in front of her as Draco introduced himself to the witch who was seated at the table allowing the audio to fill the room.

“Malfoys doing the interview? Is that wise?” Her assistant, Alice, asked as she also dropped into a seat beside Hermione, she had been working for Hermione for nine months now and Hermione got on with her well.

Hermione nodded, “He needs to learn at some point if he’s going to be of any use around here.”

Alice nodded and then grinned as the witch in the interview room gave an anguished howl and collapsed forward onto the table sobbing loudly. Hermione couldn’t help but laugh with her at the horror and obvious discomfort that crossed Draco’s face.

“Well if nothing else its going to be fun to watch, the criers are always the worst.” Alice chuckled, enjoying the fact that it was someone else and not her who was having to deal with the outpouring of emotions from the witch in the other room. “Do you think he’ll bail?”

Hermione watched Draco’s eyes flick up to the mirror glass and the resolve returned as he remembered that she was watching, she knew that he would not be willing to prove her right, he wasn’t going to give in. Hermione knew he was an arrogant prat who would not take well to his abilities being questioned, and she derived a great deal of satisfaction from watching him squirm.

However, she also knew he was extremely hard working and intelligent when he put his mind to it. He had, she reminded herself, been the one to fix the vanishing cabinet that countless others had tried and failed to do, the despicable outcome that this had allowed weighed heavy on her heart but she couldn’t deny that the magic involved was very impressive. Given the right outlet and environment Hermione hoped that his brain might actually be able to do some good.

“I think he’s got this one.” She smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has left me comments, I am so sorry that I haven't responded to these yet, RL has been manic and I wanted to prioritize getting the next chapter finished and posted. I still really appreciate everyone who took the time to share their reactions and thoughts to the last chapter and will try to respond to your posts as soon as I can!


	7. Chapter 7

Following his own six-month long stint as a Ministry employee both Theodore Nott and his boss, and in fact the whole office, had unanimously agreed that it was in everyone’s interests that he would not come back the following week. He had not taken well to the working world, could never quite get into the swing of doing what he was told or having responsibility. Of the 132 days that he worked he arrived late for 128 of them.

Since then he hadn’t even managed to hold down a hobby let alone another job. He spent his days drifting from diversion to diversion, seeking anything to hold his attention and he spent his nights seeking oblivion at the bottom of a bottle or a potion vial.

His affected nonchalance was an act that all his friends saw through, but had the good manners not to mention, and between them they ensured that a “Theo watch” was in place. Each of the group had their own ways of going about it, for Blaise it usually consisted of a bottle of very good elfish-wine and a cigar leading its way to somber reminiscence of the years gone by. For Pansy there was the on-going search in both their houses to dig out the gruesome and potentially deadly dark objects secreted about, they frequently spent weekends hunting through cellars and attics to see what they could find.

Even Draco, though not yet formally inducted into the plan, himself aware the others were keeping a close eye on him too, had taken Theo out for several afternoons to toss around a Quaffle on their brooms, something that seemed to sooth them both equally.

This particular day was Daphne’s turn, she had a rather more practical approach and, as usual, barged into his room bright and early, a swish of her wand opening the curtains, another swish pulling back the blankets before Theo could yank them up over his head to block out the light.

“Up!” she instructed, “come on lazy bones I need help and everyone else is out so you’ll have to do.”

Theo groaned and rolled onto his stomach, grabbing at his pillow to cover his head. He was too slow; Daphne had already pulled it from under him and tossed it aside.

She wrinkled her nose, “it _stinks_ in here you know,” and crossed the room to open the window.

“You are a foul and evil harpy,” Theo whined with very little venom, rolling back over and covering his eyes dramatically with his arm, “a heartless wench, a succu _bitch._ ”

“Here.”

He cracked open one eye and glanced suspiciously at what Daphne was holding out, he recognized it immediately as her homebrewed hangover potion, much more potent and fast acting than any he had been able to get at the apothecary. He sat, grabbing it eagerly from her hand and downing it in one large gulp.

“You wonderful, beautiful, brilliant witch.” He grinned, feeling better already, “Don’t listen to what those other bastards say.”

Daphne smiled and rolled her eyes, grabbing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from the arm chair by his bed throwing them at him, “Get dressed, I’ll get the coffee on.”

He joined her in her workshop, he had given up calling it anything else long ago, ten minutes later. As promised, a mug of steaming coffee sat waiting for him on one of the benches.

Daphne was already hard at work, her hair tied back and safety goggle perched on the end of her nose as she leant over a bubbling cauldron muttering an incantation until the liquid turned the just right shade of florescent orange.

“Chop those.” She directed with a jerk of her head to the daisy roots on the bench beside her.

They worked away in companionable silence for ten minutes before Theo got bored and wandered across the room, cracking a window to smoke out of it. Daphne did not comment, too used to his behavior to really even notice. She swept up the roots that he had chopped and sprinkled them into another cauldron before moving on to a third to reduce the heat to a low simmer.

Eventually she joined him on the sofa and accepting the cigarette that he handed to her. “We’re all back then.” She stated flatly and he nodded slowly, finally she added “so what’s next?”

They were quiet for a long time until Theo finally offered, “Buggered if I know.” Grinding out one cigarette into the ash tray floating beside him and lighting another. They both sighed.

“If it were up to my parents I’d be getting married off and pushing out babies by now, they’re very disappointed that I have yet to produce them a grandchild to coo over.”

Theo snickered lightly and Daphne grinned along with him, “You think that’s good?” she smirked, “for years now they have expected the father of said grandbabies to be Draco.” She snorted and wrinkled her nose at the thought, “can you imagine? I’m not sure who would be more miserable, me or him.”

Theo barked out a laugh, “You would literally murder him.” He agreed.

Daphne look a long thoughtful drag on her cigarette. “Thankfully since I escaped here, they seem to have backed off a little bit.”

“I just thought you were here for my winning personality.” He clutched a hand to his chest, wounded that she had ulterior motives, she patted his knee consolingly. 

“All their eggs are in the Astoria basket now,” She continued, “it seems they rather easily replaced one daughter with another in the grand plan, she’s always done what she’s told anyway so they like her better. I’m sure if Lucius or Narcissa were around the wedding would have been the day Draco was released.”

“Out of his prisoner robes and into a tux, how delightful.” Theo remarked, “They probably would have needed to stop off for a quick spray tan on the way though, wouldn’t have wanted him to look so peaky in the pictures.”

The pair stopped and considered it for a moment and both erupted into fits of laughter.

“Even with his fucked- up daddy issues Draco would have put his foot down.” Theo defended finally, “Even he would draw the line at arranged marriages.”

“True,” Daphne agreed, “a shame my dimwit sister doesn’t think the same, she thinks its _romantic._ I wouldn’t have put it past her to write him bloody love letters while he was away.”

“Puke.” Was the only response that Theo was able to offer, seeing the anger and regret flicker over his friend’s face, even he was aware that he should not push the matter. Daphne, realizing what should have been her checking in on Theo, had somehow descended into her own personal therapy session leapt up quickly to attend to one of her potions.

“Enough moaning,” she said brightly, “come and help me bottle this, Weasley’s already put in a second order of everything and I need to deliver it all tomorrow, you can help me get it ready.”

 

\----------

 

Hermione was procrastinating, it wasn’t something that she did very often and she found that she was not very good at it, usually one to dive right into whatever task was before her she had never learnt the fine art of killing time. She had finished work half an hour ago and was expected at The Burrow in twenty-five minutes, she did not want to be early, not anymore, Molly’s frosty politeness or intense questioning was enough to make even the most steadfast Gryffindor tremble in their boots.

After five minutes of attempting to window shop along Diagon Alley, Hermione gave in, heading to the Leaky Cauldron, resolving that a drink may help settle her nerves. She had managed many months dodging the weekly Weasley meal invitation, but Ginny had finally put her foot down, reminding her that she was as much a member of the family as she ever had been, and threatened violence if Hermione did not attend.

Thankfully the bar was relatively empty, still a little early for the usual end of work rush. Neville stood behind the bar, and smiled warmly as Hermione approached, seating herself at a bar stool before him.

“Hullo Hermione, on your own are you?” He enquired, frowning slightly as he noted the unusual behavior, “Is everything alright?”

“Hey Neville,” She smiled, “Fine thanks, just killing time, don’t want to be the first one at the Weasley’s or I’ll have to face Molly’s nagging on my own, hopefully if I’m a little late she’ll already have latched on to a different target.”

Neville grinned conspiratorially and grabbed a glass from the rack above his head. “Well while you’re here you can test my newest cocktail, if you have to face the entire Weasley clan I think you’ll need it.”

With a complex wand motion various bottles bobbed up into the air and tipped themselves into a cocktail shaker which Neville seized  and gave several firm shakes before pouring the contents into the glass.

“The pride of Gryffindor.” He announced, “A temporary boldness booster for when your courage is flagging.  All of us could do with a little bit of help when we have to face Mrs Weasley.”

Hermione snorted, “Damn right.” She picked up the glass and took a deep sip, a warm feeling flowed through her and she instantly felt better about her upcoming dinner. Molly Weasley and her opinions on Hermione’s life could, quite frankly, stuff it, Hermione reminded herself.

“How are your parents?” She blurted before she realized what she was saying. It seemed Neville’s drink really did work; it was a question that she usually felt much to awkward to ask him.

She remembered the last time that she had asked him the question, years ago. It had been when she was still struggling with her anxiety and depression and choosing to medicate with copious quantities of alcohol. She had received the news from the medi-witch just two days before that the memory charms she had cast on her own parents were irreversible. She was not taking the news well. She had only hazy memories of the night before the tequila clouded her brain but she did recall her drunken conversation with Neville where she announced to him that they should form their own club. The _almost orphans_ she had titled it, parentless where it really counted. As soon as she said it, she could tell that her comments had hurt him, but she could do nothing to take them back. He had grimaced, mumbled some non-committal response and left as soon as he was able to.

Even with Neville’s cocktail in effect, her cheeks reddened, wondering if Neville was recalling the same memory.

This time, however, he did not grimace, in fact he smiled, “They’re actually doing really well thanks, mum absolutely adores Hannah, we visit them every weekend.”

Hermione smiled, relieved that her friend was happy and that she had avoided a foot-in-mouth moment.

“So anyway, how long does this drink last?” She changed the subject, “Am I going to be offending everyone all evening?”

“Only for the next thirty minutes or so.” He grinned, “Or I could give you a shot to counteract it?”

“No, no, no, this is good.” She assured him, “In fact I better get going, don’t want to waste the effects now do I! Do you mind if I use your Floo?”

He nodded and handed over the pot of Floo powder, she grabbed a handful and disappeared through the flames, waving with her other hand.

 

\----------

 

“Oh, hello Hermione dear.” Molly greeted as she stepped out of the flames and into the Weasley’s kitchen.

“Oh my!” Molly exclaimed before Hermione was able to say anything, “you are _much_ to thin Hermione dear, you really do need to look after yourself you know, you have to remember you don’t have Ronald to remind you to eat.” Molly chuckled lightly at her comments

 _A new record, I haven’t even taken off my coat and she’s got in an insult and mentioned the break up_ Hermione thought to herself, some days such comments would have bothered her, however with the help of Neville’s cocktail today was the first time that she felt bold enough to confront it.

“I’m perfectly fine thank you Molly, I look after myself very well and I don’t appreciate your comments on my weight as it really isn’t any of your business. Are the others in the sitting room?”

Without giving Molly time to answer Hermione breezed past her, enjoying the shocked look on her face, and walked into the living room to find Ron, Ginny, Arthur and George sat around the fire.

She greeted each warmly and happily accepted the drink that Arthur offered to her, sitting beside him and updating him on the latest office gossip that he was missing now that he had retired.

 

They were halfway through their main course before Harry finally arrived, having waited long enough for him to join them that even Molly had given in and insisted that they eat without him. It was clear that he had come, straight from the office. He looked bedraggled and exhausted but, for the first time that Hermione could recall in a long while, his eyes gleamed with hope.

“We’ve had a break in the case.” He grinned as he flopped down into a chair at the kitchen table and accepted a plate of food from Ginny. “We’ve had some good intel about a small group of death eater sympathizers that have been underground for the past few years, we think they’re behind the disappearances.”

The table broke into relieved chatter, George getting up to pat Harry on the back, Arthur shaking his hand. The room relaxed into an atmosphere of cheerful celebration, it seemed only Hermione felt any different.

“I thought you’d ruled out political leanings as a motive.” Hermione interrupted, frowning, “Didn’t you get confirmation that the third victim had death eaters in their close family. Why would they have been taken if they were on the same side?”

Harry sighed, pushing up his glasses to rub his eyes, “Hermione, we have good information, we do actually know what we’re doing.”

Hermione did not respond for a second, deciding if she should push the point or let it go. The effects of the cocktail had long since worn off and her usual anxiety crept in giving her pause, she often wondered why her friends put up with her and she knew when she was particularly argumentative that they found her just as particularly irritating. She could not block out each of the pictures of the missing people on the board in Harry’s office though, she had frequently stood beside them and considered each of their faces.  Each one flashed before her eyes in that moment and she knew that she could not just let it go.

“Harry, are you sure that its good information and not just the only information you’ve had?”

Ron and Ginny both winced, “That’s going to go down like a lead Bludger.” Ron muttered.   

‘I am perfectly able to do my job without your help Hermione.” Harry said tightly, the anger evident across his face.

“I know that Harry, I am just offering an opinion.” She snapped back, “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, all you have is a lead, it might not pan out.”

“Oh! There’s no need to be so negative dear.” Molly interjected, coming to Harry’s defense.

“Its not negative, its realistic.” Hermione replied, trying to keep her voice even.

The table descended into an awkward silence as the group finished their meals as quickly as possible. Hermione opted to skip dessert, leaping up as soon as Molly flicked her wand and sent the plates into the sink to be washed. She gave her frosty goodbyes and returned home, shutting herself in her room for the rest of the evening to avoid any further disputes with her friends.

 

\----------

 

The feeling of hope of spread through the entirety of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement by the next morning as the news of the “big break in the case” became common knowledge to the agents. All available staff were pulled into the case as covert surveillance was set up around the clock to learn as much about the group of criminals as possible and to see if any firm leads on the missing persons could be confirmed. Only skeleton staff remained in the sub-divisions to keep them ticking along. For Hermione that meant her office consisted of herself, her assistant and Draco Malfoy.

She sat at her desk gazing out at the empty desks, deep in thought. It was not even 9a.m. and she already had a pounding headache and was concerned that if one more person approached her to exclaim how wonderful the news was she might not be able to stop herself from hexing them, she had been reading a new dueling book recently and had picked up a couple of new spells that she hadn’t had chance to try out yet.

“Thought you’d be next to Saint Potter lapping up all this stupid glory.” Draco commented, making her jump, she hadn’t heard him come into the room.

She snorted, still as angry as she had been the night before, “Let’s just say Harry and I aren’t seeing eye to eye on this one.” She responded primly, picking up her quill and trying to look busy with work.

“No?” Draco asked, quirking an eyebrow with surprise, “You mean you’re not buying in to this stupidity?”

Hermione’s eyes shot up to meet his in surprise. “You don’t believe it either?”

Draco huffed out a derisive laugh, “I believe Potter’s grasping at straws so he can keep his title of _Saviour of all Mankind_ and the Ministry are trying to spin this into good PR to keep the public off their backs.”

Hermione found herself in the uncomfortable position of agreeing completely with Draco Malfoy. It was a strange and unusual feeling and she couldn’t help but smile up at him for it.

“So how does Potter cope with not being agreed with, can’t imagine its something he’s very used to with everyone fawning over him all the time.” Draco asked as he sat down at his desk opposite her, pulling a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans from his bag, opening it and carefully selecting one, smiling when the taste of cherry filled his mouth.

“Not well, we had a bit of a fight about it last night when we were at the Weasleys.” She admitted, “apparently I’m too pessimistic and should lighten up.”

“Pfft, you are one of the most irritatingly hopeful, see the good in everything, people I know. I don’t think you’ve got it in you to be pessimistic, you’re much too sensible. They are just fuckwits, don’t let them tear you down.” He instructed as he tossed another bean into his mouth. He managed one chew before he turned and spat it into the small bin by his desk. “Pond weed.” He offered in explanation.

Hermione stared at him, dumbfounded, first of all for his backhanded compliment and second for his terrible breakfast choices.

He noticed that she was staring and offered her the box, “Want one?”

The sensible “daughter of dentists” part of her mind cringed in protest, but her louder, rebellious teenager won out and she accepted.

He left the box on her desk and pulled his chair over, using the corner to start reviewing the report that he was fact checking, it was an article that would be published in muggle newspapers regarding the death eater gang, requesting any information to be shared. They both sat in thoughtful silence of a while as they worked, occasionally spitting out a foul flavoured bean. Hermione found herself growing increasily uncomfortable at the normality of their actions.

“I don’t know how to react to you being nice to me.” She admitted, breaking the silence. She watched his reaction carefully and could see the regret and shame play across his face, she regretted the bluntness of her comment even while feeling freed by the admission.

He didn’t speak for a long time, Hermione had decided that he was not going to respond and had given up and returned to her work by the time that he finally offered a reply.

“I was raised completely indoctrinated into a lie that I was better than most of those around me, it took a long time and a lot of horrible experiences to learn just how wrong that was. I know my word won’t mean much to you but please believe me when I say that I deeply regret it, all of it. I was a pompous prat and I am trying my best to be better now.”

Her heart broke at the sadness that she could see radiating from him and she reached out her hand to cover his. She was not sure why, for comfort, forgiveness, maybe just recognition that none of their lives had turned out the way that they had planned them to.

The door to the office was flung open and Hermione quickly retracted her hand, grabbing for her quill, as Alice walked in, three cups of coffee hovering behind her. Draco stood up, moving his chair back to his desk as he accepted one of the cups. Alice deposited the final one on Hermione’s desk before settling at her own desk beside Draco.

Hermione couldn’t quite explain the blush that rose up her neck and over her cheeks, she leapt up quickly muttering something about needing a file and left the room as quickly as possible without actually breaking into a run.

Not wanting to visit Harry, she instead found herself wandering aimlessly through the corridors until she reached the large atrium. She sat at the edge of the new fountain that had been constructed when they had pulled down the monstrosity that had been the “Magic is Might” monument. In its place were five figures, each with their arm stretched high above their head, holding their wand to the sky. From each wand, each a unique and beautiful design, came a spray of water that fanned out in gravity defying, beautiful and intricate swirls that wound their way around the figures before falling into the basin beneath them. When the fountain had first been planned, Harry, Ron and Hermine had been approached for their permission to use their likenesses for some of the figures. Each had vehemently refused.

Carved around the basin was _“darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that - hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that”._ Hermione had read the words so many times before, but on this day they struck her afresh and her mind wandered back to Draco Malfoy. Former high school tormentor, turned want-to-be-good-guy. His apology had seemed genuine, but Hermione could not help but feel it was quite sufficient. A firm believer in the phrase “actions speak louder than words” he still had a lot of actions to make up for, despicable things that she could not even begin to understand. As she gazed up at the symbol of hope that had been so carefully and lovingly crafted, however, she resolved that she was willing to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote around the fountain basin is not my own but is credited to Martin Luther King Jr!
> 
> I am so truly grateful to all who have bookmarked, subscribed, commented and/or left kudos, you are wonderful humans keep up the good work!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight:

Draco sat on the sofa and poked at the hole that had appeared in his jumper, he had _Reparo’d_ it just that morning but the fibers had unraveled themselves once more. After four repairs it seemed that the spell no longer wanted to stick. With a frustrated sigh he pulled it over his head and headed back to his room to change into something else.

As he pulled out aged and holey clothing, he realized that even before he had been in Azkaban it had been a long time since he had bought any new clothes. Plotting your Headmaster’s demise and following an oppressive maniac Dark Lord left little time for shopping.

He felt apprehensive, following the group’s outing to the Leaky Cauldron, he hadn’t really been out of the house other than to go to work. His contact with the rest of the world had been happily limited to his office and very few others. Theoretically he was aware that the majority of the wizarding world was displeased with his general existence, even Potter’s testimony had done very little to temper the fury that the population had against him and the other captured Death Eaters. It didn’t matter to them that he had turned against Voldemort in the end, that he was sorry. What was sorry to those who had lost their loved ones, it would not bring them back, it would not right the wrongs that he had been a part of. He knew anything that he could do would never be enough, the many hate letters and howlers that he had received on a daily basis to his cell reminded him of this fact and so it was generally better to avoid people completely.

He wandered the house in search of someone else hoping to enlist them in his shopping mission, resolving that if he had to face the world, he would not do it alone. He finally came across Pansy giving herself a manicure at the dining room table. It took very little convincing for her to agree to an afternoon of retail therapy.

They took the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron and, after a brief trip to Gringotts, busied themselves among the racks at Twillfit and Tattings. Draco half-heartedly browsed while Pansy darted from item to item exclaiming its suitability against Draco’s hairstyle and skin tone. He allowed her to pile her finds up in his arms, not bothering to try anything on, even with the reparations that the Malfoy’s paid following the war their bank vaults remained some of the largest in modern British wizarding society, he would be happy to buy the lot if it meant that the whole ordeal would be over quicker.

The shop bell jingled, alerting them that more customers had entered. Draco did not recognize the people that walked through the door, but from their immediate reaction he was certain that they recognized him. The woman bristled in self-righteous indignation and turned to the man beside her.

“Well it looks like we shan’t be shopping here again, I don’t want to be associated with such scum.” She announced loudly and turned to leave.

“What seems to be the problem?” An eager shop assistant intercepted her before she was able to open the door.

“Well, _madame,_ it seems your shop had somewhat lessened its standards in clientele and I do not wish to be associated with such a place that would allow evil hideous people such as them inside.” She thrust a chubby finger in the direction of Pansy and Draco and the shop assistant turned to face them, looking stricken.

She eyed the large pile of clothing in Draco’s arms and he could almost see the mental calculation taking place in her mind trying to decide if allowing him to buy it would be more profitable to her than the inevitable bad press that would be associated with allowing him to do so. She bit her lip and turned towards him, her eyes pleading with him to not make a scene, he knew that she had landed on the side of the other customers.

Draco sighed and dropped his arms to his sides allowing all the garments to fall to the floor around him, his shoulders slumped in defeat, “Let’s go Pans.” He muttered before the assistant damaged his shattered ego even further by actually asking him to leave.

Pansy stood for a moment, deciding if she wanted to make a scene, but he was already through the door and out onto the street.

“It was all last season and tacky anyway.” she huffed, as she followed him out of the door, pulling more clothing off of the racks and onto the floor as she went.

Draco’s heart was beating fast in his chest, the collar to his shirt felt much too tight against his throat and his palms were sweating. As they made their way their along the street, he could not ignore the sidelong glances, the whispers behind hands, one witch even walked up and spat at his feet. They were not even halfway back to the Leaky Cauldron when Draco throat seemed to tighten and he could not take in a breath.

Pansy grabbed his arm and pulled him into a side street, pushing him against the wall.

“You need to keep it together, having a breakdown is buying into their nonsense, don’t give them the satisfaction, they are not worth it Draco.” She told him firmly.

Blood rushed in his ears and her voice was reduced to a far-off buzzing and he continued to struggle to drawn in a breath. Pansy pushed down on his back so that he bent at the waist, head down between his legs, she rubbed large circles on his back.

“Breath Draco, in and out, in and out.” She instructed, “come on breath with me.”

He glanced up at her and watched as she exaggerated her own breathing, large, open-mouthed gasps in and large, cheek-puffed breaths out. He attempted to copy and after a few minutes was able to mimic the breathing pattern that she was showing him.

“You know they’re just ignorant bastards, right?” She said quietly once his breathing has returned to normal and he stood up straight again.

He nodded, and wiped away the tears pricking in his eyes, “Doesn’t mean they aren’t right though.” He muttered sadly. “They’re right to hate me, I shouldn’t be allowed to just get on with life, I can’t make up for what I’ve done.”

He had been hiding away, he realized, the past weeks since he had been out of prison had just been avoiding reality, by hiding away with his friends he had limited the interactions with those who might confront him, remind him of what he already believed, he was worthless, not good enough to be in the world.

A sharp stinging roused him from his morose thoughts, Pansy had slapped him around the face.

“I’m sorry Draco but get a grip,” She told him firmly, he was taken aback by her lack of sympathy, gone was the fawning girl that had doted on him through high school. “They hate all of us because they cannot move on, but you have, don’t let them trap you in the past with them. You can’t break down every time someone says something nasty, you’ll never have time to get anything else done. Now come on, I know a quiet place on Horizont Alley that we can go to instead.”

Before he had chance to protest, she had grabbed his arm once more and dragged him along behind her.

 

\----------

 

Daphne busied herself with vials and bottles, packing all that she needed into a packing crate ready for her to deliver it to Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes the following day. She felt oddly unsettled at the thought of returning to the shop and had already spent a not insignificant part of her day planning out what she was going to wear. No matter how much she tried to think about other things she could not help but examine all aspects of her previous interaction with George Weasley. She told herself that she was fascinated because he was so radically different in a way that she had not really seen in anyone else from the winning side. She had thought that the brokenness had existed only with the losers such as herself and her friends, he broke that belief completely and she did not like to be proven wrong. But still, that didn’t quite answer why she had charmed her hair into silky smoothness and applied yet another coating of lipstick and mascara to her face.

A bell rung in the hallway outside of her workshop, alerting her to the fact the someone had tried to cross the wards at the edge of the property. When they had all moved into the Manor Theo had altered the wards to allow them to come and go as they pleased, there were very few others who even knew where the house was let alone were able to get into it. Daphne grabbed her wand and with a swish a wispy image flowed from the tip.

“Oh, for goodness sake.” She hissed as she realized who it was. With more force than necessary she shook her wand to break up the image and stomped to the front door, wrenching it open to face her sister.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded with annoyance. “You could have owled.”

Astoria, used to her sister’s bossy tone, rolled her eyes and ignored her, pushing past her to come inside. “You haven’t been home in weeks, mum and dad wanted to check that you weren’t dead.”

Daphne snorted, “Mum and dad are relived that they aren’t paying for me as well as you, they don’t care where I am as long as I’m not at home.”

Astoria attempted to disagree with her sister’s comments but even to her own ears her cry of protest was forced. Instead she smiled sadly, “Mum’s put me on a new diet, told all the house elves they’ll be punished if I’m allowed to eat anything other than half a grapefruit, a bowel of porridge and a small chicken salad with no dressing each day.”

Daphne’s irritation with her sister instantly faded, replaced by the fierce comradery of siblings against their parents.

“Right,” She said in a clipped tone, “kitchen then, we’re having chocolate cake and lots of wine.”

Astoria grinned and the two made their way along the hall in search of their feast. They started with the cake and after that Daphne began to fry steaks, proclaiming her sister to be much too skinny. The smell of freshly cooked food soon lured Theo to join them too.  

“So,” Astoria asked finally, “where are the others today?”

To untrained ear the question may have been innocuous but Daphne knew better, the tone was perfectly balanced between intrigue and nonchalance, it was one that Astoria had been working on for years. The tips of her ears were tinged pink too, another dead give-away. Daphne smirked at Theo over the younger girl’s head.

With the same level of affected indifference she responded, “Oh well I think Pansy is out shopping and Blaise is out on the vineyards inspecting the crop before harvest, he’ll be back this evening.”

Astoria nodded studiously, lips pursed as the battle within her raged between acting cool and really wanting to get the answer to the true question she had been asking, _where is Draco?_  

Eventually her curiosity won out, her voice cracking as she asked, “And how about Draco, he’s back home now isn’t he?”

Daphne snorted, _like you haven’t got a tally of the minutes since he’s been back in England,_ she thought sardonically. Astoria was examining her nails like she didn’t have a care in the world. Theo was biting the inside of his cheeks to prevent himself from giggling.

“Oh he’s with Pansy, hot date you know.” He choked out after taking a moment to compose himself.

Daphne noted the crestfallen look that flashed across her sister’s face and felt a modicum of sympathy. “Torture more like, he just needed new clothes and who would ever be able to deny Pansy her right to go shopping. I’m sure they’ll be back soon enough.” She could tease her sister, but it didn’t mean that Theo was allowed to, she gave him a pointed look which clearly read _leave her be_.

 

                                    

\----------

 

They had managed another forty-five minutes of shopping before Draco had declared that enough was enough and resolved to only ever shop through owl order catalogues from then onward. He had been shouted at, called names, spat on and one wizard had even charmed a puddle of mud from the cobble stones and right into his face.

But it was when the insult about his mother was shouted across the street that was the final straw.  

“I bet your whore mother is loving being locked up with all of that death eater scum!” A voice called out from the crowd, “Bet she gets passed around like a bloody bottle of firewhiskey.”

Draco’s hands curled into fists and he felt his blood boiling and he took a breath, ready to shout his response. Pansy’s hand was on his arm and before he realized what was happening she had disapperated them both out of the street and back to Nott Manor.

He took several seconds to catch his breath before erupting, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You could have splinched me I wasn’t ready to travel! I want to go back and deck that dickhead!”

“You are not going to fight him.” Pansy told him firmly, brushing the wrinkles from her sleeve, “you’re much more of a throw a snide comment from a safe distance kind of man and you know it.”

Draco grunted in disgust and turned and kicked one of the plant pots that lined the porch, it tumbled down the steps and shattered with a satisfying crack.

“Did you hear what he said about my mum?”

“Yes Draco,” Pansy answered quietly, “and it was vile, as was everything else that people said to you today, and to me, and everything else too. But going and giving someone a blackeye isn’t going to solve anything.”

“So I just take it then?” He scoffed.

“Yes, you do,” She snapped back, “we dished it out for long enough, its time to take it for a while.”

“That’s bullshit Pans, we were kids. Kids being threatened by a sicko, doing what we had to do so we didn’t get our whole families _Avada’d_.”

Another kick, another plant pot shattered.

“Come on, lets go in, Theo’s plant pots have done nothing to you.” She instructed, flouncing away from him through the front door.

Draco stood for several seconds longer, fists still clenched, he let out another frustrated growl and punched the column beside the front door before following Pansy inside.

He could hear voices and followed them into the living room.

“I hear you’ve been doing some landscaping.” Theo grinned.

“One more word and I’ll landscape your face.” He snapped back and dropped down beside his friend on the sofa.  

“Your hand!” a small voice exclaimed and Draco glanced up to see a young woman that he did not recognize sat across from him.

He glanced down at his hand which was swollen and red, and now he thought about it throbbing rather badly, and then back up at the woman in confusion. “Who are you?” he asked with a frown.

The girl flushed red and her eyes pricked with tears, she did not respond. Daphne, sat beside her, tutted and rolled her eyes, “Astoria, Draco, my sister, who you have known for many years.”

“Right.” He muttered, attention returned to his hand, the pain blossomed across his knuckles now he was aware of it.

“Who’ve you been fighting?” Blaise asked, “doesn’t look like you did a good job, you’re supposed to hurt them not the other way round.”

Draco winced as he examined the wound, “Its broken, definitely broken.” He declared to the room.

“Can someone heal him?” Blaise asked, “Who has their wand?” he patted down his own pockets with no success.

“Accio my wand!” Theo declared, they all paused for a second before remembering that Theo was terrible at wandless magic and dismissing his contribution to the conversation.

“Tori has her’s,” Daphne prompted, “She can do it.”

She gave her sister’s shoulder a small push of encouragement and the younger girl flushed an even deeper shade of red. Nevertheless, she stood and cross the room. She took Draco’s hand gently into her own. Her wand hand trembled slightly as she muttered the incantation so quietly even Draco struggled to hear it.

She was too flustered, never a good start to even the most basic spell work let alone more complex healing spells. Draco’s hand began to swell uncontrollably.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, tearing his hand back out of hers, “What the hell did you do? Why the fuck are you even here? What is your point?!” He yelled as he held his right hand against his chest with his left.

Astoria backed away tears now freely falling down her cheeks, she let out a small squeak and turned a ran from the room. Daphne huffed a sigh and followed her, “You didn’t need to be such a monumental twat you know.” She shot over her shoulder as she left.

“Nobody panic!” Theo declared, having rummaged around in the sofa cushions, brandishing his wand, “I found it!”

He grabbed Draco’s hand, who winced in pain at the rough handling, and with some complicated movements the swelling and redness receded and the pain vanished. Draco flexed his fingers in satisfaction, his hand was back to normal.

“Thanks mate.”

“Any time my friend, who needs a pretty young girl to act as your nurse maid when you have me.” Theo grinned over at him.

Draco’s mind returned to the younger Greengrass sister, “Why was she here?”

Theo snorted and Blaise chuckled along with him, “To see you, you idiot.”

“To make doe eyes at you and memorize every feature of your face so she can record it all in her pensive and watch you whenever she wants.” Blaise added.

Draco grimaced, “What?”

“Didn’t you know the grand plans?” Theo asked, “your parents and hers had it all set, nice little marriage, lots of magical babies, and a lifetime of protecting your wealth.”

“So romantic.” Blaise swooned.

“I have no idea what you’re on about.” Draco shook his head.

“Well Tori does, she been practicing her _Mrs Astoria Malfoy_ signature all day.” Theo grinned, “she already had your dear old mum and dad’s approval, what else is there to it.”

Draco stood, stony faced, “If you’ll excuse me,” He informed his friends quietly, “I have several howlers to compose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry for my lack of update last week! I've been recovering from an illness and was completely wiped out! I should hopefully be back to my usual Thursday updates but please be patient with me if I miss any in the next couple of weeks!   
> As ever, thank you so much to all who have taken the time to comment, follow, leave kudos etc!


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione had already been at work for an hour when Draco came crashing in, a palpable fog of fury surrounded him that was evident as soon as he entered the room. He pulled out his chair as though it had personally offended him and sank down into it with a sharp sigh. His eyes flicked up to meet hers defiantly and she quickly looked away. She was taken aback by his disdainful stare, something she had not seen from him since their second year at Hogwarts, she bristled slightly and wondered what was wrong. For a moment the insecure twelve-year-old that she had been reared its head and she sank down slightly in her chair until she realized what it was that she was doing. She pushed herself back up straight, _no,_ she reminded herself, _neither of us are those people anymore._

Hermione cleared her throat, “Draco, there’s been another delivery of historic interview records to the store room, I need you to organize those like you did the others please.”

A scowl passed over his face and he heaved a sigh as he rose to his feet. The door to the store room slammed hard behind him and the witch who sat closest to it knocked over her cup of coffee as she jumped from the noise.

He spent the next thirty minutes clattering about in the store room before Hermione’s patience reached its limit and she rose from her desk and crossed the room to confront him. She pushed open the door to the store room and walked inside, he quickly turned his back to her, swiping furiously at his eyes. His cheeks were reddened and Hermione was certain she had seen the glisten of a tear rolling down his cheek before he had turned away. She momentarily forgot why she had come into the room she was so startled.

“Draco – are you – are you ok?” She asked tentatively, reaching her arm out to comfort him, realizing that was probably a step too far and leaving it awkwardly hovering in the air between them for several long seconds before quickly snatching it back.

“Leave me alone Granger, I’m doing what you asked.” Came his reply as he grabbed the nearest box and began flipping through the pages inside.

She reached back towards the door, ready to comply with his demand before stopping herself and turning back to him. “It might help to talk about it.” She suggested softly. “I’ve been told I can be a good listener.”

“Talk about it?” He scoffed, “Oh yes lets all just sit and talk about our _feelings_ that will bloody help won’t it. Let’s talk about how I feel like such a failure, how I can’t leave my house without people literally spitting on me. How I can’t even be at home without my parents planning my life out for me like I’m some object to be traded for something better.”

He slammed his fist down on the shelf next to him, a box toppled over spilling its contents on the floor, he kicked several pages out of the way and continued, his rant only just getting started.

“Like they could do any bloody worse. I know I’m absolute garbage, I know I’ve made stupid mistake after stupid mistake and if it wasn’t for Saint- _fucking-_ Potter and his merry band of bloody do-gooders I would still be rotting away in a cell along with dear old mummy and daddy.”

His voice raised with every sentence and he stepped towards her closing the space between them, Hermione instinctively took a step back and found herself backed up against the door. She could smell his aftershave, citrus and some kind of smoky herbs, it smelled nice.  

“But instead I’m just trapped in this new prison of judgement from all sides, I think Azkaban was easier, at least I knew when to expect my next beating.”

He fell silent, looking morose, and Hermione took her opportunity to cut him off, “Oh woe is me!” She scoffed, “You know what? Yes you were an absolute arse for the vast majority of your life. Yes you have a whole bloody lot to make up for, but sitting around feeling sorry for yourself is not going to help anyone, most of all you. We are all waiting for you to prove that you were worth saving Malfoy so bloody well do it. It took you a fucking long time to get there but when the chips were down you realized what was right and what was wrong so you need to remember that. And you know what? If you can’t be a bloody grown up then maybe you should just leave.”

She stopped to catch her breath and process the words that had spilled from her mouth, feelings that she hadn’t managed to put words to before that moment.  

Draco’s lip curled slightly and he stepped even closer, Hermione held her breath, unsure what was coming, her thoughts flashed back to her third year and she momentarily wondered if she could throw a right hook like she had done in the past. Draco reached past Hermione and pulled open the door.

“Well I’m glad to hear that you think so highly of me Granger. You’d just love to see me fail wouldn’t you, just like all the fuckers are hoping that I will.” He hissed as he pushed past her.

Hermione stood still waiting for her heart beat to return to a normal pace, with a sigh she stooped and quickly picked the papers strewn on the ground, shoving them messily back into the box. She could still smell the notes of citrus hanging in the air.

She returned to her desk to resume her work and twenty minutes passed before she saw Draco slinking back into the file room to also get on with his job for the day.

For the rest of the morning Hermione felt that she could not settle on one task, the words on the report that she was writing swam in front of her eyes, reassembling themselves into the words of their argument. She shoved the scrolls into her top drawer, deciding they were a job for future Hermione instead, and concluded that she needed a distraction. She grabbed her mask and camera and headed to the conference room resolving to make another video, a task that always consumed her mind.

She set up the camera and slipped the mask over her eyes before realizing that she had left the reference book that she needed at her desk. She was not looking where she was going as she rushed down the corridor to retrieve it and collided with someone going the other way.

“Whoa! Watch it lady! Wait – Granger?”

Hermione stopped and looked up at Theodore Notts who was peering down at her with a wicked grin on his face.

“Now precisely what kinky shit are you doing at work Granger?” He asked, motioning to her mask.

Her cheeks reddened and she quickly pulled it off of her face, holding it behind her back as though he would forget all about it.

“Its just a project I’m working on,” She muttered, “forget about it Theo.”

“A sexy project?” He chuckled.

“No!” She insisted, “Look why don’t you come with me and I’ll just show you? I don’t think you’ll believe me otherwise.”

 

\----------

 

Draco sat at his desk and checked the time again; Theo had agreed to meet him for lunch and he was now twenty minutes late. He sighed and shuffled some papers on his desk, trying to look busy while not really actually doing anything, he was sure his friend would turn up soon so there was little point in stating something new. He skimmed through a report that he had picked up, _Hopkins, A,_ sure that the name was familiar, the case was from the year before so it was not one that he had been involved in, but still something about it niggled at him. He could not place it and his stomach was gurgling making it hard to concentrate on anything so he shoved the papers into his drawer resolving to look at it another day.

He heaved a sigh and drummed his fingers against the desk. A booming laugh cut through the office and Draco frowned, recognizing the sound. He pushed his chair back and stood up, listening intently, trying to find the source of the noise. Another laugh, a second voice joining the first this time, and he realized it was the conference room. He crossed the hallway and opened the door.

Theo was inside, sitting on the edge of the desk watching Hermione intently as she shuffled a deck of cards. With a flick of her wrist the cards seemed to fly from one hand to the other and Theo laughed again, clapping his hands with delight. Hermione chuckled along with him and Draco felt an odd twinge in his chest, he didn’t like what he was seeing, but couldn’t quite work out why. He cleared his throat and the pair looked up at him.

Theo grinned, “Draco, she’s doing magic!” He declared.

Draco blinked at him, “We all do magic, this is not news.”

“No! Muggle magic! Not like magic magic, muggle tricks without her wand!”

Draco frowned, “But you can do _magic_ magic, I don’t see how this is exciting.”

Theo scoffed and turned back to Hermione, “show me another one!”

“I thought we were getting lunch.” Draco interjected petulantly. He was still irritated by Hermione from earlier that morning and he did not enjoy the sight of her and his best friend getting along.

“Spoilsport,” Theo muttered under his breath, “Granger you are going to have to teach me how to do that some day soon.”

Hermione grinned at him, pleased to find someone else who actually enjoyed the tricks, most people, like Draco just didn’t really see the point when they could pull out their wand and achieve something more impressive.

“She is a lot more cool than I remember her being.” Theo announced as they walked away from the office and towards the café.

“Because she can do some weird tricks with cards?” Draco snorted, “Hardly.”

“No – well not just that, it is pretty cool – she’s just genuine, there are very few people who don’t just look down their noses at us, she treated me like a normal person and that’s pretty damn cool in my book.”

They walked on in silence for several minutes until Theo finally added, “Fit too, did you see the tits on her?”

Draco said nothing, he did not want to admit to his friend that he actually found it quite difficult not to stare most days. The awkward, gangly teenager that he remembered from school who had never seemed quite comfortable in her  own skin, with bushy hair and teeth too big for her mouth had morphed into a quite beautiful woman with clothes that clung to curves that made Draco forget what he was about to say. And, yes, he agreed, her breasts were quite magnificent. He thought back to that morning and the close proximity that they had been in in the file room, he could still remember how her hair smelt of vanilla as he had moved past her, how, for just a moment, he had wanted to bury his face in it before remembering that he was supposed to be furious at her and walking away.

Although he said nothing, Theo had become quite adept in reading his best friend, he smirked over at Draco, he might not have said the words but his friend’s growing crush was being communicated loud and clear.

 

\----------

 

A klaxon wailed as Daphne pushed open the door to Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes, she winced and shut the door quickly to silence the noise. She adjusted the basket on her arm and crossed the shop to the counter. George was with a customer and so she wandered around the shelves for a while until she reached the shelves labelled ‘New Releases”, she couldn’t hold back the electric thrill that ran through her body as she saw her own products on the shelves. Especially seeing how little of the stock was left, it seemed that her products were proving popular with customers. She turned her attention to the rest of the shelf and began examining the other items for sale alongside her own.

“Anything take your fancy?” George’s voice startled her and she quickly put down the Mucus Macaroons, the newest addition to the Skiving Snackbox, “I can offer you a collaborators discount.”

She shook her head and smiled at him, her face suddenly flushed as she met his eyes, “So which of these did you invent then?” She asked, turning her attention back to the shelf instead.

He did not answer immediately and she glanced back over to him to see a pained expression cross his face. “None of them.” He finally shrugged, “Mostly I just get other inventors who need a place to sell their ideas, like you.”

Daphne was not quite sure why but his answer broke her heart. For the majority of her time at Hogwarts she could remember Fred and George passing out their new inventions in the Great Hall, huddled over a cauldron in an abandoned classroom or corridor, designing new and unexpected havoc on a daily basis. The thought that George was no longer doing so did not feel right even if it had annoyed her all through school, it was just the way that it was supposed to be.

“But what about your workshop? Surely you must be inventing things all the time!”

Again, he shrugged and began to walk back towards the shop counter. “I’m thinking of just expanding the stock room to be honest, I’ve not really used it in a long time.”

“You can’t!” She cried and he turned back to her, a bemused expression on his face, wondering why it was that this woman seemed to care quite so much.

“You’re Fred and –“ She started, stopping as she realized her mistake, “Your George Weasley, inventing pranks is what you do.”

His face fell once more and Daphne cringed at her slip of the tongue and the obvious pain that she had caused.

“See?” He said quietly, voice thick with emotion, “It was always the two of us, together, now its just me it just doesn’t seem to work. I was a pair and now I’m just half of myself without him. The best I can do it keep the shop running, I can’t do any more than that, its just too much without -”

He stopped himself, rubbed his face with his hands and plastered on a fake smile, “Forget it, you don’t need to hear it. Now have you got the stock?”

Numbly Daphne handed the basket over to him to inspect, she wanted to say more, something, _anything,_ but she didn’t have the words. Couldn’t imagine feeling such a loss. She wanted to comfort him but was too scared that she would just make things worse. George handed her the money that she was owed and she thanked him and left with no further conversation. By the time that she got home she was furious with herself. First for her unthinking comment that caused him such pain and second for running away. She had never been great with overt displays of emotion, felt uncomfortable and unsure at what she was supposed to do. But nothing, she decided, was certainly the worst option that she could have chosen.

 

\----------

 

By the time that Draco got home that evening he was exhausted, after returning from lunch he found he was unable to look Hermione in the eye and he had spent a defensive afternoon throwing insults and jibes at anyone who dared look at him. Eventually Hermione had told him to go home early having grown sick of listening to him. He was irritated at everything; he couldn’t stop going back to thoughts of his parents and the fury he felt at the discussions that they had held regarding his further without even consulting him. He did not want to get married off to some witch he hardly knew and the fact that one of his best friend’s sister could gaze at him with such adoration repulsed him. He was not worthy to be adored, she didn’t know the horrors that he had been a part of, didn’t understand that he was certainly not worthy of her regard let alone her love.

He walked into the living room and there she was, inexplicably still in his house, as though he thoughts had a magic of their own, he couldn’t help but let out a frustrated groan.

“H-hi Draco.” Astoria smiled slightly, terror in her eyes and her cheeks bright red.

“Are you living here now too?” He snapped back, knowing that he was being cruel but unable to stop himself, the way she looked at him made him feel trapped with expectation. It made him realise the huge cavernous gap between the man that he was and the man that he wanted to be, the man that would be worthy of someone’s love. He didn’t want to think about it and her being there made that impossible. He just wanted her to leave.

“N-no,” She stammered, “I’m just – I’m visiting.”

“Well maybe its time to go home.” He snarled and turned away.

He stopped at the door and turned back. “Can I just make one thing bloody clear? We are not engaged, we are not going to be engaged, I don’t care what our fucking parents dreamt up in their stupid heads but its not going to happen. Mine are going to rot in Azkaban and even if they were here I’d rather crucio myself than be forced into marrying someone.”

He stalked away before she could say another word.

Tears pricked in her eyes as she grabbed her wand from the coffee table and headed to the front door, she didn’t collect her things from Daphne’s room she just walked out into the night, unsure where she was heading, far away being the only destination in her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I am offering my apologies that I did not post last week, life is hectic right now! Thank you for your words of encouragement and for your patience with me!   
> Next week I am on holiday and I don't know what the wi-fi sitch is going to be like, I am hoping that I will be able to post like normal but I can't 100% guarantee it right now! The good news is that hopefully I will have a lot of time to write and get some extra chapters up as and when I can! 
> 
> As always thank you so much for your comments and kudos, I haven't had chance to respond to each one individually but I promise I read them all and they all make me do a little happy dance! Happy reading!


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